Reaching for Sarah's Soul
by Daenar
Summary: Two people have finally found each other - when a tragedy forces them to go back to the very beginning... (Set mid-season 7, just after Answered Prayers)
1. Chapter One

'REACHING FOR SARAH'S SOUL'  
  
Author: Daenar Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius Productions, CBS and Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG-13 Classification: Drama, Romance (H/M) Spoilers: Everything up to 'Answered Prayers' (mid-season 7)  
  
Summary: Two people have finally found their way to one another when a tragedy forces them to turn back to the very beginning...  
  
Author's note: I had almost forgotten about this story that I'd buried deep in my archives a year and a half ago due to a major case of writer's block. When I remembered it, I thought that no one would want to read it anymore. Yet, the complete lack of shippiness JAG is suffering at the moment made me rethink that point. I felt inclined to go back to the good old times and finally complete this piece, be it just to tie up loose ends.  
  
We're back in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'. So Sergei has just come to the U.S. and Bud still walks on his own two feet.  
  
*****************  
  
Part One:  
  
Dec. 31st 2320 ZULU The Roberts's home Rosslyn, VA  
  
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Mac looked intently at the young girl in front of her.  
  
"Sure." Chloe seemed to grow at least another two inches. "You just go and have fun. We'll be all right."  
  
"Did Harriet show you where you can find everything?"  
  
"Yeah, and she also showed me how to change diapers." Chloe made a slight face.  
  
Mac chuckled. "You know, Chloe, you never know when something you learn might come in handy."  
  
"That's exactly what Harriet told me." Chloe let her gaze run up and down Mac's figure. "You look so beautiful. When I'm grown I want to be just like you."  
  
Mac blushed slightly. "You never will for you are a blonde with blue eyes and I'm dark all over. But I'm sure you'll be a beauty one day. I can see that."  
  
Now it was Chloe's turn to blush. Luckily she was spared a reply because Harriet entered the room, a half-sleeping toddler on her arms.  
  
"He's got all he needs for tonight. If he should get hungry, just give him a bit of yogurt and at midnight let him stand up for a couple of minutes so he can see the fireworks and won't be afraid of any strange noises, okay?" Harriet put her son into Chloe's arms and rearranged her night blue silk dress. "Did I spill anything over myself?"  
  
"No. You look great, Harriet." Mac gave her a critical survey and then nodded approvingly. They were interrupted by the doorbell. Straightening the collar of his galas, Bud came running out of the bedroom and hurried to open. Male voices could be heard from the corridor. Mac cast one last quick glance in the nearby mirror and checked her make-up. Chloe observed her closely with the slightest knowing smile.  
  
"I heard there was some stunning Marine waiting to be accompanied to some ball tonight." Harm entered the room with a smug grin. Mac stifled a small gasp. This was definitely something she needed to get used to. Ever since Harm had kissed her under the mistletoe in this very same house, only a week ago, he couldn't seem to fight the urge to flirt with her. Noticing that she wasn't alone in the room, though, seemed to dampen this notion immediately and his expression became somewhat embarrassed.  
  
"Hi Harriet, hi Chloe..." All of a sudden, he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.  
  
Mac noticed the winks and grins Harriet and Chloe exchanged as they greeted their friend. She desperately searched for an innocent topic but her brain suddenly felt void. Inwardly cursing her counterpart for being able to throw her off the track like this, she only managed a strained smile in his direction.  
  
As the awkward silence began to stretch, Harriet saved the situation. "Sir, we were just about to put AJ to bed, but maybe you'd like to see to that yourself?" Mac made a mental note to thank her once she could catch her alone.  
  
"Very kind of you, ladies." Harm knelt down and looked at AJ, obviously glad to have something else to focus on. "Hey, young man, can you say hello to Uncle Harm?"  
  
The toddler sleepily traipsed over into Harm's arms and fell asleep the moment Harm lifted him up into the air.  
  
"Take the towel." Harriet placed it under AJ's little head that was resting against Harm's broad shoulder. "You can never be sure if your galas will survive a three year old boy. Chloe, I want to show you something else in the kitchen." She and the girl left the room. Harm seized the opportunity and stepped over to the window. Mac felt her panic rise when she saw that the smug expression had returned to his gaze. What the hell had happened to this man? How was she supposed to react? True, the idea of Harm coming forth and making a move was a nice concept for a change. Still, having it actually happen was a scenario she simply wasn't prepared for. Whether in Australia or on Chegwidden's porch, it had been her to force him to react. Maybe the fear she was feeling was just the same he had felt back then. 'God, Harm, I'm so sorry... I'll never do it again, I promise... but, please, stop flirting with me until I work out a strategy how to react!'  
  
"Somehow I was hoping for a somewhat warmer welcome." He was entirely too close for her liking.  
  
Mac decided that attack was the best defense. She turned around and threw him a mockingly annoyed glance. "Embarrass me again in front of everyone and you'll notice just how cold I can get."  
  
Harm grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was sure Harriet and Chloe were putting AJ to bed because I didn't hear any voices from the living-room. You know, women tend to be rather noisy folks when in large numbers."  
  
Putting her hands to her hips, Mac shook her head. "I won't take any more of this macho talk, boy toy. By the way: hi."  
  
Harm put a finger to his lips, indicating their sleeping godson. "Like to help me put him to bed?" he said in a low voice that was dripping with barely veiled innuendo. Again fighting the impulse to run and hide, Mac made a movement with her right hand as if to slap him. He caught her hand in mid-air and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "By the way: hi."  
  
Once more, Mac's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed but held his glance. For a magical second she thought he might renew the kiss from a week ago - but the moment passed and she drew back self-consciously. He let go of her hand and they went to little AJ's room. From the corner of her eye, Mac observed Harm with the little boy. It seemed so natural to see him tuck his godson in and gently kiss him goodnight. A slight smile played on his lips as he stood and watched AJ cuddle into his quilt in his sleep. Mac knelt down beside the bed and, careful not to wake the boy, brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.  
  
"Good night, munchkin," she whispered and stood up again. They switched on the baby monitor and left the room. Mac felt Harm's eyes on her as she was listening through the closed door to check if AJ was asleep for good. Suddenly she was glad she had chosen the new dark green silk dress with matching stola.  
  
"What I said earlier was true: you sure do look stunning tonight, Marine," he said in a low voice, offering her his arm to lead her back into the living-room.  
  
"Well, thank you," she replied, trying to sound casual but inwardly jumping with joy about the compliment.  
  
In the corridor, Bud was waiting with Sergei. "What did you do to your brother, sir?" he asked, indicating the plaster cast on Sergei's left leg.  
  
"Don't look at me that way, Bud, it was him who went skating without proper equipment." Harm led Mac over to his brother who greeted her warmly in Russian and then continued in English, "I just wanted to find out if your ice is as slippery as ours." He grinned slyly.  
  
Bud raised his eyebrows. "I see you found out it is. You sure you're okay, staying behind with Chloe and AJ?"  
  
Sergei smiled in a way Mac found was very similar to his elder brother's. He lifted one of his crutches and banged it against the other. "I couldn't dance anyway. I'm sure Chloe and I will have fun."  
  
Harm looked sternly at his brother. "Okay, pal. I'll hold you responsible for everything that's going on here tonight, is that clear?"  
  
Sergei snapped to attention. "Aye, sir!" he bellowed.  
  
"Shut up," Harm chuckled, shaking his head. Chloe and Harriet returned from the kitchen. The officers helped their ladies into their coats, they waved to Sergei and Chloe and headed for the waiting taxi.  
  
Jan. 1st 0445 ZULU Capitol Hill Washington, D.C.  
  
Midnight was approaching fast but the crowd on the great dance floor still hadn't thinned. Harm thought he didn't mind. It was the best excuse he had for holding Mac close to him while they were dancing. He had been dancing with her ever since dinner had been over, only interrupted by the few times when Admiral Chegwidden, Bud, Sturgis or Webb had asked Mac to dance. Reluctantly, Harm had then asked Harriet, Bobbi and even Singer but he couldn't wait to go back to Mac. There were few opportunities to have her to himself like this and he wanted to make the most of it. As they were now slowly waltzing along the line of tables at the side of the dance floor, Harm saw Sturgis wink at him. He frowned and led Mac through a swift combination of steps, showing off a little. Luckily Mac was easy to guide in dancing. Sturgis raised an astonished eyebrow.  
  
"What was that for, sailor?" Mac whispered into his ear.  
  
"Just defending my honor."  
  
Mac had apparently decided she didn't need to know any particulars. Harm was glad. Any explanation would only have disturbed the magic of the moment. Instead, Mac closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the music. Moon River. Harm softly hummed along with Sinatra, watching a slight smile play on her features. He could have gone on like this forever.  
  
Being completely honest with himself, he had to admit he was feeling a lot more uneasy about the situation than he'd let on. In the last few days, his behavior had been something he had begun to worry about. Flirting wasn't new to him, but he had found himself flirting with Mac, and that was definitely a new one. He couldn't even remember how it had started but that tender, chaste kiss they had shared under Harriet's mistletoe had obviously pulled a plug somewhere inside him and set free what he had been afraid of for so long.  
  
At first he hadn't even noticed. He had been with his family for three days after the Roberts's Christmas party. When he had returned to D.C., he and Mac had spent a lot of time with each other, redecorating his apartment a little, and by the time he'd become aware of the gradual change in his attitude towards her, he'd already been on a downhill road - and strangely, no fear would follow the revelation. On the contrary, he felt he was getting addicted to this new dynamic that was building up between them. He felt a need to catch her glance, to touch her arm, to smile, to throw witty remarks. Two days ago, he had noticed that she was becoming increasingly unsure around him and he had known he'd crossed the point of no return. Unwillingly maybe, but he definitely had. 'So be it.' He tightened his grip, feeling her body mold against his. This time he wouldn't run.  
  
All of a sudden, they encountered a traffic jam on the dance floor. Waiting for the others to clear the way, Harm just held her tightly against him. Then the moment was over and the dancers moved on. But Harm never loosened his firm hold, forcing their movements into perfect unison. When the song was over, they just looked at each other for a few endless seconds, then Harm broke the eye-contact and offered her his arm to guide her to their table. Neither of them spoke a word.  
  
"Get your champagne ready, people, it's almost midnight." The admiral joined them and all took their glasses and went outside to watch New Year coming. Outside, they were standing on a platform, looking up into the black sky where laser beams were creating a large clock. Harm and Mac had found a spot a little ways away from their colleagues. As they were counting down the last seconds, Harm felt Mac turn to him and again met her glance, unconsciously reaching for her hand. She started to tremble slightly, whether from the cold or due to sudden emotions he couldn't tell. 'Don't back away now,' he implored himself as he stepped closer.  
  
Midnight. Someone started singing Auld Lang Syne and people immediately joined in, Harm took a deep breath and closed the distance. Very shyly, he allowed his lips to brush hers and linger there for the briefest moment as if to ask if he should go on. He needed all of his willpower not to jump when Mac carefully deepened the kiss. Shaking, he went along with her actions and kissed her more passionately. It was like they were the only people around, the crowd just forming an indefinite mass of movement and noise.  
  
When he finally broke the contact, he saw that there were tears in her eyes. He caught one of them on her cheek with his thumb and tenderly brushed it away, trying not to hope for too much as to what might follow. It was still too wonderful to believe that finally, a year and a half after her almost marrying the wrong man and him almost dying in the effort to attend her wedding, they seemed to come closer than they had ever been before.  
  
"Happy New Year, Sarah." He heard the slight tremor in his voice but for once wasn't afraid to show how he felt.  
  
"Happy New Year," she replied almost reverently. "May all our wishes come true."  
  
In silence, leaning onto each other, they watched the fireworks. Words were surplus to requirements.  
  
Jan. 1st 1040 ZULU Mac's apartment Georgetown, D.C.  
  
During the ride home they hadn't spoken much to each other, still reliving the events of this very special night. Now that the taxi had been sent away and Harm had to get home in his own car, Mac felt a strong urge to say something that would make him stay. Something meaningful that would seal what had transpired but hadn't been spoken aloud yet. But as it turned out, she was spared the effort.  
  
He fixed his gaze to hers and touched her arm. "Mac..."  
  
She swallowed. "Yes?"  
  
"May I... can I come in for a moment, please?"  
  
"Umm... sure." Shaking a little, she opened the door and let him in.  
  
When the door was firmly closed behind them, she shyly looked at him and waited. Harm cleared his throat and nervously ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"Mac, I... I just wanted to say that... You have to know..." He stopped, helpless, not knowing how to address the subject.  
  
Mac felt an inward tension so strong she thought she would explode any moment if he didn't go on. "What?" she urged him to speak.  
  
Harm drew a deep breath and stepped closer. "What happened tonight..." he looked at her pleadingly as he went on very low. "I don't want this to stop right here. I..." He reached out and with his fingers traced the contours of her face. "You said we should go back to the beginning. I guess we did. Thoroughly." With a helpless laugh, he averted his eyes. "Somehow I feel we've managed to get beyond even where we were in our best times. I don't know if you..." his voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Do you think, after all that's happened, you'd be willing to give this... 'thing' between us a try?"  
  
Mac didn't know how to react. Paralyzed, she listened to the man she loved as he told her what she'd longed to hear for so long. Just a week ago, she would have judged this impossible. Yet, here he was, handing her his heart. As the reality of the situation finally sank in, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. But she knew she had to take up his timing. Unsure, she waited for him to do something. Anything...  
  
When he looked up again, she saw the fear in his eyes and realized she still hadn't answered. Stepping closer to him but not daring to touch him, she said in a low voice, "If I weren't willing to try we'd never have gotten to this point." She held her breath.  
  
Comprehension seemed to dawn slowly on him. When he finally dared to believe his luck, he only took her into his arms and held her close for she knew not how long. Silent tears of yearlong suffering and final relief were shed on both sides as they were seeking comfort in an embrace that suddenly seemed to open up a whole new future. Finally, Mac stepped back and grinned, thoroughly embarrassed.  
  
"Do you... uhm... want to stay the night or what's left of it?" she asked with a not entirely stable voice.  
  
Harm avoided her gaze, playing nervously with his fingers. "There might be enough left of it after all," he said hoarsely. Then he met with Mac's eyes and they both burst out laughing, easing away the tension. Harm got rid of his coat, then again pulled her tightly to him and kissed her fervently. She put her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss even more. Long suppressed desire suddenly washed over them, but just as Mac was about to lose herself in oblivion, Harm pulled back and lifted his right hand as if to stop her. She looked at him with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Wait a second. I forgot something. I'll be right back. Don't move." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and made a beeline for his coat. Having taken something from his pocket, he returned to where she stood. "Close your eyes."  
  
"Harm, what..."  
  
"Just a second. Please, Mac."  
  
Mac shook her head at him, smiling, and closed her eyes, wondering just what he might be up to. Then she felt him step up behind her and nestle something around her neck. Amazed, she lifted her right hand to her bust and instead of her pearl necklace, she encountered a small metal object.  
  
"What's this?" She opened her eyes and turned to face him, sure her surprise was visible on her features.  
  
He smiled at her. "Have a look."  
  
Mac went over to the mirror and looked, feeling new tears well up inside her. Around her neck, she saw a delicate white golden necklace. A little heart was hanging from it, not attached in the middle but, as the pendant was shaped only as a heart's outlines, the heart was dangling freely from the chain. At a loss of words, she turned to face Harm who had stepped close to her.  
  
"Harm, I..." She swallowed.  
  
"Like it?" The slight fear had returned to his eyes and she hurried to set him at ease.  
  
"This is so beautiful, thank you." Resting her right hand on the pendant, she lifted her face and kissed him softly. "What's the reason?" she asked when they broke apart.  
  
Harm laid his left hand on her right that was still resting on the necklace. "This is a very special jewel, you know. My father gave it to my mother when I was born. Mom tells me he said that with this pendant, he wanted to give her the whole of his heart. And he told her to give it to me when I had found the woman I really loved, so I could pass it on to her." He sobered, his emotions showing clearly in his eyes. As if to make sure she was awake, Mac reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, drawing a smile that made her hold her breath once again.  
  
"When I was at La Jolla for Christmas," Harm went on, "I told my mother I had finally decided to give the heart away. She didn't even ask to whom I intended to give it." He chuckled softly. "She only got up, fetched the case and said, 'Give my love to Mac, my dear. Make sure you deserve her.'"  
  
At this, Mac couldn't prevent herself from laughing out loud, blushing deeply. Harm took her in his arms, caressing her back. "Trouble was, I didn't know how you'd feel about this." He leaned back to watch her, grinning. "Seriously, I was scared like hell all day you'd push me away. You would have had some reason I daresay." He sighed deeply, making her laugh even harder. Then he gently cupped her face with his hands.  
  
"I love you, Sarah Mackenzie. I always have, you know," he said softly.  
  
The words. He had said them. Mac tightened her hold on him a little, afraid the impact would make her faint. The reaction wasn't lost on him and his smile turned just a little guilty. Glad to see a way out, she only stated, "Well, if you did, you had an odd way of showing me."  
  
He fell earnest. "I know. I'm so sorry." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe his own stupidity. "Really, I mean it. I am infinitely sorry it took me so long to make up my mind. I could have spared us a lot of heartache if I hadn't been such a coward back in Sydney. Even back then there was nothing I wanted more than to have you by my side." His smile crept back up to his eyes. "Maybe the magical third kiss did the trick..."  
  
Mac rested her hands on his that were still holding her face. "Don't trouble yourself with could-haves. You didn't back away this time. On the contrary, you started." Swallowing a sob, she lowered her voice. "This is all I ever wanted. I love you, too."  
  
The overwhelmed expression on his features was enough to make her knees buckle for real. Harm caught her, swept her up and held her, laughing with her. "Don't let that boost your ego, flyboy," she managed to get out despite her laughter.  
  
"I'll know how to interpret this," he retorted smugly, "You know what they say about dress whites and gold wings..."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Her lips silenced him effectively, and with a start she noticed that his hands had found the zipper of her dress.  
  
Just then, the telephone cruelly interrupted the bliss. Mac rolled her eyes in exasperation. Who would call her on New Year at six o'clock in the morning? Harm stretched out his arm to reach for the receiver but Mac stopped him and gave him a warning look.  
  
"We'd better get used to this ourselves first before we let the others know." She placed a quick kiss on Harm's lips and then picked up the phone. "Mackenzie."  
  
["Ma'am? This is Harriet. They... oh God... There was..."] The rest was lost to helpless sobbing.  
  
Feeling the color drain from her face and reaching for Harm's hand, Mac pushed the speaker button. "Calm down, Harriet," she said with more conviction than she felt. "What happened?"  
  
Harriet's answer came in between little sobs. ["The front door has been forced, Ma'am. AJ, Chloe and Sergei are gone."]  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	2. Chapter Two

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Two Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From Part One:  
  
Mac rested her hands on his that were still holding her face. "Don't trouble yourself with could-haves. You didn't back away this time. On the contrary, you started." Swallowing a sob, she lowered her voice. "This is all I ever wanted. I love you, too."  
  
The overwhelmed expression on his features was enough to make her knees buckle for real. Harm caught her, swept her up and held her, laughing with her. "Don't let that boost your ego, flyboy," she managed to get out despite her laughter.  
  
"I'll know how to interpret this," he retorted smugly, "You know what they say about dress whites and gold wings..."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Her lips silenced him effectively, and with a start she noticed that his hands had found the zipper of her dress.  
  
Just then, the telephone cruelly interrupted the bliss. Mac rolled her eyes in exasperation. Who would call her on New Year at six o'clock in the morning? Harm stretched out his arm to reach for the receiver but Mac stopped him and gave him a warning look.  
  
"We'd better get used to this ourselves first before we let the others know." She placed a quick kiss on Harm's lips and then picked up the phone. "Mackenzie."  
  
["Ma'am? This is Harriet. They... oh God... There was..."] The rest was lost to helpless sobbing.  
  
Feeling the color drain from her face and reaching for Harm's hand, Mac pushed the speaker button. "Calm down, Harriet," she said with more conviction than she felt. "What happened?"  
  
Harriet's answer came in between little sobs. ["The front door has been forced, Ma'am. AJ, Chloe and Sergei are gone."]  
  
Part Two:  
  
Harm felt the ground fall away from beneath his feet. He steadied himself, leaning against the nearby wall, pulling Mac to him. He couldn't lose Sergei again, now that he'd just gotten him back. And his godson, the nearest thing he had to a child of his own... And would Mac be forced to suffer yet another loss in her life, that of her little adopted sister? He slid his arm around her, trying to appear stronger than he felt. He had to. He could see what the news was doing to Mac.  
  
"No traces whatsoever?" she asked in a panic-stricken voice, biting her lower lip and forcefully gulping down tears as she listened. Then, all of a sudden, the Marine took over. "Okay, Harriet, I know where to find the commander. We'll be right there. Hang on." She flung the receiver onto the cradle and then turned to Harm, shaking. He embraced her firmly for a moment, searching for strength himself. Then he looked at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Come on, Colonel, put on some sweats and let's go."  
  
Jan. 1st 1135 ZULU Roberts Residence Rosslyn, VA  
  
"What happened?" AJ Chegwidden thundered as he stepped into the living room, still wearing his galas. Behind him appeared Sturgis and Bobbi. Luckily Singer didn't show up. Tiner had taken her home earlier.  
  
A very pale but composed Mac came to meet him. "We don't know, sir. We didn't call the police, just in case whoever is involved in this might take it as a direct provocation. So we're looking for any traces ourselves. There's blood on the carpet, but not much, and we didn't find much evidence of a fight, either. So maybe they are all well, but we don't have a clue where they are or who kidnapped them."  
  
"Dammit," the admiral uttered between his teeth. "Any missing objects?"  
  
"Only AJ's diaper bag, bottle and blanket. Looks like they want him taken care of for whatever reason. Sir..." Mac swallowed. "Could you go over to Bud and Harriet and try to, well, keep them out of the way? We're all very scared but they're really not being very helpful."  
  
Bobbi and Sturgis joined them. "Don't worry, Colonel, we'll take care of it. The admiral might be needed in the investigation," the congresswoman said with a questioning glance in Sturgis's direction. Sturgis nodded consent and they walked over to the couch where Harm was trying to soothe a crying Harriet and a raving Bud.  
  
Harm gladly left the Roberts' in their care and walked over to Mac and the admiral. He was suffering far more anxiety than he would let show. "Sir, they've left behind Sergei's crutches. He'll be completely helpless by now," he said, wiping some sweat off his forehead. He was beginning to feel desperate. If they only knew what to look for! He looked at Mac and felt his heart aching even more. They hadn't talked much since Harriet's phone call and he could see she was slowly going crazy with worry. He stepped over and, not caring that his CO was standing nearby, pulled Mac into his arms for a moment. AJ stood quietly and waited. When they parted, he cleared his throat a little uneasily and sent them back to search for what, no one knew.  
  
Harm noticed that every so often, Mac would stop looking around for a moment, close her eyes and take a firm hold on the little heart he had given her as if she were searching for a source of strength. He was touched by how much his little gift seemed to mean to her and he swore to himself that when all this was over, he'd take Mac on a holiday to make her - make them - forget about this horror.  
  
Suddenly Mac gave a little cry of surprise. In an instant they were all by her side, Harriet holding her breath, supported by Bobbi, Sturgis firmly holding Bud.  
  
"There's blood, here on the windowsill," she indicated, her voice shaking. "It's in the shadow so maybe that's why you didn't see it at first. But there's more. These are no stains, they're letters. Russian letters. Which means Sergei tried to leave us a hint. Harriet, do you have a flashlight?"  
  
Harriet only nodded while Bud was already on his way to get it. He handed it to Mac and stepped back as she bent over the windowsill, examining the smears.  
  
"It's only half a word," she said, frustration making her voice shake even more. "I can't make out any sense."  
  
Harm stepped close to Mac and reassuringly put his hand on her back, trying to hide his own turmoil of feelings. "Can you pronounce it?"  
  
"Yes, but as I said, the letters make no sense. I don't know any word that'd fit with these syllables."  
  
"Anyway, what's the sound of them?"  
  
Mac again looked down and then said, "It could be as much as "goal-'enn".  
  
Harm slowly repeated the sound over and over, pacing up and down like a lion in a cage. If Sergei had wanted to leave word he'd have encrypted it, leaving a Russian word that he knew his friends would be able to make out, but not the enemy. But then he would have left a message that was easy to understand, not with words so rarely used that Mac wouldn't know them. So what if this wasn't Russian at all? 'goal-'enn'... And then it struck him. He spun around, facing the whole party but addressing Mac.  
  
"Mac, it's not Russian at all. He used the letters to encrypt his message. It's a name. It's 'Golden'."  
  
Mac gasped in shock but had at once gotten Harm's point. "Of course... He's taking revenge on the three people that destroyed his plans, that'd be you, Bud and me. But how the hell would he know that he would have such a chance tonight?"  
  
AJ stepped in, holding up his hands. "Easy, Colonel, Commander. Would you care to inform us what this is all about?"  
  
"Lieutenant Commander Jeremy Golden was sentenced to life at Leavenworth, sir," said Bud, having understood as well and fighting hard to keep his composure. "It's been ten months or so. He and a couple of his colleagues at Miramar were trafficking in human beings and drugs, using the sea route from Baja California. The whole thing was discovered when two missing sailors were found dead on the Beach a little south of San Diego. Golden was accused of murder. I'm sure you'll remember the court-martial, sir."  
  
AJ nodded slowly but it was obvious that he was confused. "I think I do, but cold-blooded slave trade and revenge as personal as this don't seem to fit into the same picture. Can you give me a few more details, please?"  
  
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the lieutenant complied. "Of course, sir. That was just the point that made this case so different from the many precedents we dug up. Golden doesn't have the usual business mentality but seemed to do it for more personal reasons that no one understood. And he was obsessed with what he was doing, unlike his partners who were in for the money alone." Bud paused a few seconds, apparently giving the admiral a chance to comment, but AJ was waiting patiently, so he went on.  
  
"Commander Rabb and I prosecuted and Colonel Mackenzie defended. It was obvious that Golden had killed the men but it was difficult to prove it without a doubt. The case took many unexpected turns that dragged out the court-martial. When the verdict was finally read, Golden asked if he might say something. When Judge Sebring allowed it, Golden swore an oath that he'd get back at us, especially at Colonel Mackenzie. He said that her failed defense ruined him forever and that he would take revenge - may it be the last thing he'd ever do in his life. The MPs immediately took him away but we were all pretty shaken by the display, sir. Golden must have had his men spying on us ever since, waiting for his chance."  
  
"If he monitored our telephones he must have known that he could at least get his hands on AJ and Chloe tonight," Harm cut in. "I'm sure he's congratulating himself on his good luck that my brother was there as well." His brow furrowed in rage.  
  
"But how would Sergei know who is behind all this?" The admiral's frown fully mirrored Harm's.  
  
"Pure chance again, sir. Sergei and I talked about this case just two days ago," Harm explained. "He wanted me to tell him a little about what I was doing at JAG, and the Golden case offered a lot of possibilities for explanation. So I'm sure Sergei immediately knew what this was about when he somehow managed to get a hint as to the kidnappers' identities."  
  
"But..." Harriet had finally gained control of her voice. "Golden should know that the government would never trade hostages for prisoners."  
  
Harm looked at her earnestly. "Golden's not the man who wants to bargain. He wants his revenge carried out. So he may take care of his hostages for the moment but I'm sure he only wants to play with us to savor his vendetta. He'll kill them in the end so we have to act really quickly."  
  
At this, Harriet squeezed Bobbi's hand so tightly that the congresswoman let out a low groan. Mac's look was one of cold professionalism. Harm sadly noted that if it hadn't been for the little heart that she was still clutching tightly in her hand, nothing would have been left of the woman he had held in his arms a little about an hour ago.  
  
"I know where he keeps them," she murmured through clenched teeth.  
  
Harm threw her an astonished glance. "What? Where?"  
  
"Red Rock Mesa."  
  
"Red Rock..." Harm knew he was gaping at her in a way that was anything but civil but he couldn't help it. Mac really thought Golden would bother to have his men fly the hostages all across the continent first instead of securing them right away somewhere close by? And then, Golden was apparently directing this operation from his cell in Leavenworth. So what freaking difference would it make to him if the hostages were held near D.C. or anywhere else? Why organize a complicated and risky operation to get them that far away? Even if they hadn't been brought up to the plateau but were kept somewhere on the ground - it was still extremely difficult to handle the logistics. Mac couldn't possibly be serious about that. Yet, one look at her face told him that she apparently was. And that she was determined to make her point.  
  
He surrendered. "Why would he go there of all places?" was all he asked, incredulous. "And by the way, how would you know?"  
  
"Because I once told him about my passion for paleontology and about how Uncle Matt and I used to look for ichnites there," she explained, calmly but firmly. "I wanted to get my hands on any details from Golden's past, something I could base my defense on. So, to get him to open up, I gave him a few details about myself. Quid pro quo. And then..." Mac swallowed hard. "When they convicted him, he screamed after me that one day people would find my own bones scattered where the dinosaurs would be waiting for me, remember?"  
  
Harm nodded. All of a sudden, he was convinced that she was right. He had been in the courtroom that day. He could see the scene play out in his mind, feeling the same shock and rage he had felt back then.  
  
"Golden's definitely pigheaded and smart enough to pull off something like that," Mac went on. "What I learned about him during the court-martial told me enough to see that he's genial in some distorted way when it comes to carrying out his plans." Harm could tell Mac was shaking with fury. And fear?  
  
Chegwidden had turned on his heels and was making a phone call. Two minutes later he joined the group.  
  
"Lieutenant Roberts, you stay here with your wife. Commander Turner," he looked at Sturgis, "You take care of them. Mackenzie, Rabb, we have an aircraft waiting at Andrews. Let's see to it that we get there ASAP."  
  
"Aye, sir," came the echoes from different directions of the room, all voices anxious but somehow relieved as well. At least they now had something to cling to.  
  
Jan. 1st 1310 ZULU Andrews USN Airbase  
  
AJ, Mac and Harm were sitting silently in their seats, watching the ground move farther and farther away. Harm had his arm wrapped around Mac and was holding her tight, resting his chin on her head. He didn't care that Chegwidden saw them - their CO had always been understanding about their close friendship and right now, nothing pointed to the fact that there might be more than that between them. Only he himself and Mac knew, and that was all they needed for now. He had often embraced her like this, but never had he felt so much comfort flooding from her presence as he was feeling at the moment. And he could tell it was just the same for Mac, for she was still holding the gold pendant in a tight grip and it seemed she could not lean close enough to him.  
  
Harm was still amazed by himself. He had thought he would never bring himself to open his heart to her. And more than that, he had doubted she would accept his offer now when he had turned down hers so many times before. But still, she had told him she loved him and this was going to be the strongest source of strength he could ever have wished for. In the following hours, he would it need badly.  
  
He was still deeply touched by how much she seemed to appreciate his gift. She was holding on to it as if to make sure that his heart was still with her. Well, as far as he was concerned, she would always have it. Harm looked up and saw that the admiral was watching them closely. Did he suspect anything? He wouldn't be surprised if he did. He met his CO's eyes. In spite of all the worry showing on Chegwidden's face, Harm thought he could make out the slightest trace of a knowing smile. He smiled back just a little embarrassedly and then rested his head again on Mac's. Thankfully she had drifted to sleep. He would watch over her.  
  
Jan 1st 1500 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona  
  
Sergei, Chloe and little AJ had been taken to some dark cave. They had been left a little kerosene lamp, rugs and some food, but no hint as to where exactly they were. After the bumpy flight in a small, shabby plane, they had arrived when everything around had still been pitch black. Sergei thought he had made out the outlines of mountains or rocks, but he couldn't be sure. From where they were now, they had no way of taking a look outside. Their kidnappers had told them in no uncertain terms that, should any of them ever show up at the entrance of the cave, he'd have seen the sun for the last time ever. Not that he'd have been able to try anyway, Sergei thought with a wan smile. Without Chloe's help, he couldn't walk anywhere.  
  
AJ had been crying wildly all night, but when they had been able make out the first hints of dawn from their dark dungeon, he had finally fallen asleep and so had Chloe who had been around the little boy all the time. Sergei watched the girl lying on the rugs, holding little AJ tightly in her arms even now. She had been really brave, Sergei thought. He had seen how a few tears had trickled down her cheeks on the flight but she had obviously wanted to soothe the toddler. So she had sat there, desperately biting her lips and rocking AJ in her arms. Sergei knew he hadn't been much of a help. He had been out for quite a while, only occasionally emerging from his unconsciousness. His head still hurt badly where whoever they were had hit him. He only hoped that Mac had been able to decipher his hint as to who was behind the crime. If so, she and his brother would already be on their way to the rescue. If not...  
  
He tried to shift his weight but at once let out a groan of pain. There was something wrong with his already injured leg. Well, he would let Chloe sleep for another half-hour or so, but then he would need her because he felt nature calling. Poor little one. She had to support them both now, him physically and AJ as his spare mom. Sergei softly brushed away a strand of Chloe's blond hair that hung over her mouth and moved when she breathed. But if Chloe was only half as much Mac's 'sister' as he was Harm's brother, they were going to make it out of here safely.  
  
Jan. 1st 1730 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona  
  
The three humvees bumped along the track. As always when she came here, Mac was awed by the beauty of the scenery. Not even her worries could prevent that. She had wanted to come back here with Harm, all alone, on a weekend trip. Now there were 18 of them: her, Harm, Chegwidden, and a strike team of 15 Marines from Yuma. On the base, they had been given the proper equipment and BDUs to change into. Harriet had called and informed them that a Master Chief Gabriel Wright had called on behalf of the kidnappers, telling them that they wanted five million dollars for Golden's family and a safe exit out of the country. He had described where exactly he wanted the ransom to be deposited. Mac alone was to deliver it. Obviously any 'misinterpretations' of these rules would otherwise lead to the death of one of the hostages.  
  
From the information about where to drop the money, Mac had at once deduced that the hostages had to be not too far away from a cave she and her uncle had sometimes camped in. So that would be where they were to look first. The one advantage they had, she knew, was that Golden's men wouldn't be expecting them yet. Sergei's message had provided them with a five-hour head start.  
  
As this was a Marine operation, Mac had found herself in command, the admiral leaving her the lead. And she was going to get them out safely, she kept swearing to herself. One look at Harm's equally determined face and she knew she had the best support she could ever have hoped for. Subconsciously she again grabbed Harm's little heart on her necklace that she hadn't been able to take off when she had changed. She needed it to survive.  
  
Meanwhile in a nearby cave...  
  
Chloe woke up as Sergei softly patted her arm. She needed a moment to clear her thoughts but then all the memories of last night rushed into her mind and made her shudder involuntarily. As she lifted her glance she met Sergei's reassuring smile and was grateful for his presence. Although she didn't know him very well, she still knew he was Harm's brother and that Harm and Mac trusted him. That was enough for her to rely on. She looked down on little AJ who was sleeping soundly.  
  
"At least there's someone who doesn't care too much about this shit," she said in a low voice.  
  
"True..." Sergei acknowledged thoughtfully. Then he looked at her, concerned. "Did you get a little rest?"  
  
"Strangely, yes, I did. But Mac once told me you could sleep in the weirdest places if you were tired enough to try. How are you feeling?"  
  
Sergei made a face. "Something happened to my leg. It hurts very badly," he said. "Hurts 'like hell' - you say so, don't you?"  
  
Chloe smiled. "That's right."  
  
"Uhm, Chloe, I..." Sergei looked dreadfully embarrassed. "Could you please help me to get up and go a little further down the cave... I need to..." He stopped, not knowing how to go on. Comprehension dawning, Chloe grinned, feeling embarrassed as well.  
  
"Sure. Put your arms around my neck." She carefully freed herself from little AJ and crawled over to the young man. "And now help me to get you on your feet." Sergei gritted his teeth and in a low voice uttered a few Russian curses. But they managed to get him to a spot in the cave where he could lean on the rock. Chloe turned around, waiting for him to summon her for the way back.  
  
"Do you think they'll find us?" she finally asked once they were again settled on the rugs.  
  
Sergei's glance was earnest. Chloe saw that he didn't even think about lying to her, and she was grateful for that. After all, she was thirteen years old and had a right to know the truth. "I tried to leave a message for Mac right when that guy knocked me out," Sergei explained in a low voice. "I don't know if they'll find it but if they do maybe they can guess where we are."  
  
"That really sounds like something Harm would have done," Chloe stated. "And that's why I'm sure they'll find it."  
  
"So am I."  
  
For a few moments they were silent, each hanging on to their own thoughts. Then Chloe spoke up again, her change of topic seeming to surprise him a little.  
  
"What do you think? Will Harm and Mac ever get together?"  
  
Laughing slightly, Sergei shrugged his shoulders. "Well, everyone can see it would be the best thing for both of them, but then, my brother can be really stubborn..."  
  
"So can Mac," said Chloe, sighing deeply. "And yet I'm still keeping my hopes up. You know, when Mac was with Mic, I thought they were perfect... but I guess I was right with my first guess after all. Actually, I think she and Harm are a lot closer than they ever were."  
  
"I think so, too," Sergei agreed. "Maybe our little adventure out here will bring them closer still." He raised his eyebrows. "United in worries for brother and sister, together coming to our rescue... who knows?" He held up five to her, grinning mischievously.  
  
A wide grin had spread over Chloe's face, too. "You're on!" she said, giving him five. Then she sniffed suspiciously. "Uh oh," she grimaced, "I think I might get the chance to test my skills in diaper-changing before long."  
  
But even as she was starting to get up to get AJ's bag, the sound of gunshots suddenly broke the silence.  
  
Sergei immediately grabbed her arm and pulled hard. "Get down!" he shouted. AJ woke and started crying with fear. Chloe seized him and lay down next to Sergei. He put his arm over her back and pulled her and AJ close to his side. "I only hope my brother will hurry up a little," he mumbled in half- hearted attempt to ease the tension.  
  
"Chloe? Sergei? Where are you?" Harm's voice. Sergei let out a sigh of relief and pushed his body up a little. "Over here. Nice of you to drop by at last", he called . Harm immediately came over to them and helped his brother stand up. "Chloe, you okay? How's AJ?"  
  
"All fine now that you're here. How did you find us this quickly? Is Mac with you?"  
  
"Yes, Mac's outside with the admiral and a Marine squad. She knew this cave. She was here with her uncle. So we also knew we could peep in on you from above and see if there were any guards inside. As we found that they were keeping watch only at the front entrance, we thought we'd better not try to negotiate but go for a quick in-and-out op. Now let's get you out of here."  
  
Chloe quickly grabbed AJ and his bag and, Harm half-carrying Sergei, they rushed outside to where the jeeps were waiting.  
  
Outside...  
  
Mac came running to them. "Oh my God, Chloe, are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah, all fine. Let's just get away."  
  
"Okay, let me take AJ, and run, quick!"  
  
Chloe handed Mac the toddler and sped to the nearest car where Harm was already helping Sergei settle down. Mac set off to follow her when AJ suddenly began to cry, reaching out for something. She stopped and looked back: he had dropped his teddy bear. Suppressing a groan, Mac hurried back to get the toy, knowing it was AJ's favorite.  
  
"Ma'am, their reinforcements may be here any minute now, we'd better be out of here," a young lieutenant yelled.  
  
"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant," Mac yelled back angrily and turned back to rush over to the second humvee when all of a sudden multiple gunfire erupted from above.  
  
Mac witnessed how horror immediately contorted Harm's face when it became obvious that she had no cover to run for. He jumped out of the car and ran towards her onto the open space. Her heart skipped a beat. Damn that idiot!  
  
"Harm, are you crazy? Get back!!" she shouted, desperate.  
  
Stubborn, he continued zigzagging towards her, obviously trying to draw a little fire from her.  
  
"Dammit, that's an order! Get back!! Aaargh..." Excruciating pain shot through her thigh. She wasn't really surprised when she fell. Sooner or later this had been bound to happen. She tried to move but found she couldn't get up. Crawling was impossible with the little one in tow. This was starting to get ugly for real.  
  
"Mac!!!" she heard Harm cry out as she was trying to cover AJ with her body. 'Breathe, Mackenzie, it's only your thigh.' Harm was still so far away...  
  
She felt her blood stream out of the wound, soaking her pants, and still the shooting went on. As a second bullet hit her left arm, making her scream in raw pain, realization finally dawned that this time, she wouldn't make it out safely. She was a first-class target, the only unmoving prominent spot on an open plane, a beginner's task. If she could only be sure that AJ and Harm would be safe at the end.  
  
She wanted to call out for him when a third bullet hit her right hip. Her whole body was on fire and she felt she was losing the battle. Then Harm had reached her. For a moment she took in the frantic, desperate look on his face. The face she had come to love so much. But she knew he couldn't save them both. "Take AJ, quick!" she cried, biting down her tears and handing him the boy. All color drained from his face the moment he understood what she was doing. 'Please, Harm, don't start a discussion. Please...'  
  
Meanwhile, the Marines had opened fire on their attackers, trying to open them a safe way back. By the by their enemies seemed to lose their stand. However, there was still someone persistently firing in their direction.  
  
"Run, Harm!" Mac urged him to go. A floating image of Harm cradling her body and crying in bottomless grief invaded her mind. That was when she knew this was the last time she would ever see him. The agony in her heart fully matched that of her injuries - and went beyond it.  
  
"No way, Mac, I won't leave you out here," Harm yelled, his voice cracking. He reached out for her and for a fleeting moment, hope blossomed in her heart... hope against all rational thought that he might save her after all...  
  
His beautiful eyes that were brimming with unshed tears were the last thing she saw when she felt a hard bolt at the back of her head. Night had fallen.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	3. Chapter Three

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Three Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'  
  
From Part Two:  
  
She wanted to call out for him when a third bullet hit her right hip. Her whole body was on fire and she felt she was losing the battle. Then Harm had reached her. For a moment she took in the frantic, desperate look on his face. The face she had come to love so much. But she knew he couldn't save them both. "Take AJ, quick!" she cried, biting down her tears and handing him the boy. All color drained from his face the moment he understood what she was doing. 'Please, Harm, don't start a discussion. Please...'  
  
Meanwhile, the Marines had opened fire on their attackers, trying to open them a safe way back. By the by their enemies seemed to lose their stand. However, there was still someone persistently firing in their direction.  
  
"Run, Harm!" Mac urged him to go. A floating image of Harm cradling her body and crying in bottomless grief invaded her mind. That was when she knew this was the last time she would ever see him. The agony in her heart fully matched that of her injuries - and went beyond it.  
  
"No way, Mac, I won't leave you out here," Harm yelled, his voice cracking. He reached out for her and for a fleeting moment, hope blossomed in her heart... hope against all rational thought that he might save her after all...  
  
His beautiful eyes that were brimming with unshed tears were the last thing she saw when she felt a hard bolt at the back of her head. Night had fallen.  
  
Part Three:  
  
For a fraction of a second, Harm was paralyzed. He watched the blood stream out from the fresh wound at the back of her head where the ricochet had grazed the skull.  
  
'No, this isn't happening... this can't be happening...'  
  
Just then, a stray bullet penetrated the cloth of his BDU pants and almost caused his knees to buckle. His left thigh was suddenly on fire but Harm defiantly chose to ignore the pain.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
The lieutenant's voice shook him from his state of haze. He became aware that he held little AJ in his arms, covering his eyes with his hand so that he wouldn't see his beloved godmother bleeding to death. Firmly shutting all emotions out of his heart, Harm spun around on his heel and, limping slightly, took off for the jeeps. When he saw the admiral running towards him, he noted that the firing had ceased for good.  
  
"Hand me the boy, you go and get Mac!" Chegwidden shouted and Harm instantly complied.  
  
Racing back towards the motionless figure on the reddish rock, all of his previous horror and panic swept over him again in the wink of an eye. The raw emotions threatened to cut off his breathing, but Harm gulped the feeling down and just ran on. He couldn't allow any tears to blur his vision, just as he couldn't allow his leg to give way to the pain - Mac's life, and with hers his, depended on his ability to run, see and think straight.  
  
However, a toneless "God..." escaped his lips when he dropped onto one knee, hauled her body up as carefully as was possible given the need to hurry, pushed himself up again and ran for dear life. His leg felt like lead.  
  
Sergei already stretched his arms out to help him get her aboard. Harm climbed in as soon as she was settled and cradled her head on his lap when the humvees raced off.  
  
Everything around him had fused into one giant blur. The noises seemed to originate from miles away, the landscape consisted of nothing but horizontal lines of various width and color. Everything was in motion except the minuscule bubble he and Mac seemed to be caught in: around the two of them, time seemed to have frozen as he was just sitting there, taking in her beautiful features that were smeared with dirt and blood and had lost all color.  
  
"Mac, stay with me,' he pled in a low voice, his eyes stinging with tears that wouldn't be shed. "Please, Mac, hang on, I need you. I told you, remember? I finally found the words. It's up to you to make it happen. Fight, Marine! Please! God, help us..."  
  
When he cast a brief look at his surroundings, he met with his brother's glance and saw that the pain in the young man's eyes had just about doubled. He must have heard him and understood what had transpired only hours before. Sergei reached out and squeezed Harm's left forearm, silently reassuring his brother, for whatever it was worth. Harm swallowed and only managed a nod.  
  
**********  
  
The admiral had ordered a med-evac helicopter from Yuma to meet them a little ways away. When they heaved Mac aboard, the Marine paramedics already stood by with a defibrillator. Harm's heart skipped several beats when what he had feared most was confirmed.  
  
"No pulse. Charge with 200. Clear!"  
  
His left hand applying pressure to his wounded thigh, Harm sat crouched in his seat, unable to assist the woman he loved in this ultimate fight. Squeezing his eyes shut until his eyelids hurt from the strain, Harm with his right hand tightly gripped the safety belt, just to hang on to something. 'Please, Mac, hear me... Sarah...'  
  
"Charge with 300. Clear!"  
  
The second attempt passed without effect.  
  
"Still no pulse. Charge with 360. Clear!"  
  
The cardiac monitor's steady hum suddenly turned into irregular beeping.  
  
"Got a pulse..." The rest was lost to Harm's ears.  
  
'Hang on, Sarah, don't let go...'  
  
The slightest bump told him they'd just landed on the hospital grounds. The helo's doors were yanked open and before Harm had the time to get out of his seat, Mac had already been taken away. Senseless with fear, Harm jumped out - and everything around him went black as the blood loss finally made itself known.  
  
Jan. 2nd 1415 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
"He's waking up," Sergei's voice eventually penetrated the fog in Harm's mind that was keeping him from waking up for good.  
  
"Harm, can you hear me?" the admiral asked forcefully, patting his shoulder a little.  
  
In an instant Harm was back to his senses. "How's Mac?" he asked immediately, his voice panic-stricken. "Did she make it? Tell me!" Frantic, he tried to sit but was pushed back by AJ's firm grip.  
  
"Easy, Rabb. You've got your own health to worry about. Yes, Mac's alive,"  
  
At first, Harm wanted to laugh out loud with unspeakable relief but something in his CO's voice made him stop short. He turned and looked closely at the admiral who avoided his eyes.  
  
"What is it? Tell me, what's wrong with her?" New panic rose in his throat.  
  
Chegwidden drew a deep breath. "Mac was without a heartbeat for about four minutes. They managed to bring her back but she's been in a coma ever since."  
  
Harm closed his eyes, despair washing over him like a tidal wave. "Will she ever wake up again?" he asked tonelessly as his hand found the railing of his bead as if he had to steady himself even in his horizontal position.  
  
"To early to tell. Maybe tomorrow, maybe even now, maybe in a month or in a year or maybe... never. And even if she does wake up, we won't know beforehand what she'll be like. She might come back to normal but she might also have to completely depend on someone else's care." The admiral's voice was unsteady.  
  
"Can I see her?" Harm had to force the words out of his mouth. His heart had just shattered into a million pieces.  
  
"I'd rather you didn't but I know you'll go anyway."  
  
Harm was infinitely glad his CO knew him so well and for once didn't argue. Laying the cards about Mac's and his relationship on the table just now would have been too much to bear. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.  
  
Sergei stepped forward. Harm could see he was walking steadily, clinging to the handles of an empty wheelchair. "Come on, I'll take you to her. I promised Harriet I'd take care of Chloe once you were able to go and see Mac."  
  
"Chloe is with her?" Harm asked. "Is she all right? And little AJ?"  
  
Sergei helped him settle into the wheelchair. "They are all well. The Roberts' are waiting just outside the ICU."  
  
Gathering every remaining bit of strength he could muster, Harm steeled himself for what he might find upstairs. "Okay," he breathed, "let's go."  
  
**********  
  
He gave an involuntary gasp when he saw her through the windowpane. Mac was deadly pale. Half a dozen computers were monitoring her life functions. She was breathing without help but still had an oxygen tube attached to her nose. On either side of her body, IV's were slowly trickling into her veins. Chloe was sitting on a chair next to her, her face red from crying, helplessly stroking Mac's left hand.  
  
Beside Harm and Sergei, Harriet and Bud were standing, watching in silence. Hearing Harm's intake of breath, Harriet impulsively bent down and hugged him. "It's so good to see you're okay, sir," she said in a low voice as he returned the embrace. Then, lower still, "She needs you."  
  
"How's AJ?" was all Harm managed to ask around the lump in his throat.  
  
"He's well. Thanks to you both."  
  
Bud laid his hand on Harm's shoulder. "You saved his life, sir, you and the colonel. We will never forget that."  
  
Fighting hard for his composure at the thought of what their deed might cost them, Harm only choked out very low, "He's our godson."  
  
Harriet saw that Harm's shoulders were shaking. She quietly took her husband's hand and dragged him out of the room. Sergei cast Harm a questioning look as if to ask if he was ready for what was awaiting him. Squaring his shoulders, Harm nodded and Sergei reached for the door handle.  
  
At the sound of the door opening, Chloe lifted her head. Seeing Harm, she got up and rushed over to him, threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the curve between his shoulder and neck. Harm felt her tears wet his hospital scrubs and squeezed her tightly.  
  
"Bring her back, Harm," he heard the girl's muffled voice. "I need her."  
  
Swallowing heavily, Harm tried to steady his voice as he gently pushed Chloe away a little so they could look at each other.  
  
"I don't know if I can," he said, hoarsely but gently.  
  
"If you don't, no one else will," Chloe sobbed. "I tried. She found me in the woods. We had that weird connection once. I tried to get through to her but I just couldn't reach her. But your link is so much stronger. Please, Harm, try!"  
  
Chloe's open display of grief only added to his own that he was trying so hard to keep to himself. "I doubt it works that way, but I promise I'll try."  
  
"Thank you." Sniffing, she let go of him and handed Sergei his crutches that he'd left with her earlier. Sergei gave Harm's shoulder one last firm squeeze, wheeled him over to Mac's bedside and then left the room with the girl.  
  
Harm took Mac's feeble hand. Feeling the warm but oh so slack fingers hang heavily between his own made him want to scream. He held his breath waiting for the first attack of pain to give way to a dull ache that wouldn't be chased. Slowly, he then brought her hand to his lips and firmly pressed them against her knuckles for a few endless seconds until he could think straight and remembered his promise to Chloe.  
  
"Mac..." His voice faltered. He cleared his throat and tried again, speaking lower.  
  
"Sarah, it's me... I'm right here and I'll stay with you until you wake, regardless of how long it takes."  
  
She seemed so fragile. The unhealthy pallor made her skin look like porcelain. Her lips, normally an amazing shade of red, were now pale: a hint of pink with just a tinge of violet in it. She looked seriously ill - and yet, she was incredibly beautiful.  
  
Harm bent forward and rested his chin next to her on the bed, eyes closed. He didn't need to see. He needed to feel her warmth, take in her scent, as if to convince himself she wasn't lost to him yet.  
  
"Where are you, Mac?" he whispered. "Tell me how to find you... I need you in my life... I can't go on alone."  
  
Only now did he allow his tears to flow, silently lessening the cruel tension that had built up inside him. He didn't even notice that his head sank to the side, coming to rest on his right cheek.  
  
That was how the nurses found him, sleeping.  
  
Jan 4th 1730 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
"Sir, I can't leave her here alone!" Harm was pacing agitatedly up and down his room with the help of a cane, trying to make Chegwidden see his point. The admiral tried to calm him down but Harm wouldn't.  
  
"Commander, you can't stay down here forever. I could grant you a vacation, but... seriously, Harm. You don't know if she'll ever wake. Unless you totally quit you'd have to go away anyway in a few weeks. It'll only get harder the longer you stay! Maybe she can be moved to D.C. soon," AJ suggested. The look of defeat on his features showed clearly that he knew full well his effort was made in vain.  
  
Harm came to a halt right in front of him. When he spoke his words were dangerously clear and well pronounced. "With all due respect, sir, these are MY days off. This is MY decision. I will be staying with Colonel Mackenzie and if you order me not to you will have to sue me for disobedience of a direct order."  
  
AJ held his hands up in defense. "All right. Don't shoot me. As you say, it's your decision. Technically, I have no immediate need for you at JAG. So stay if you're bound to. But, as your friend, let me advise you: DON'T GET TOO INVOLVED! Think of your own life, Harm." The admiral's expression showed real concern and compassion.  
  
Harm met his gaze and then looked down. His voice was very low when he spoke. "She IS my life, sir. I'm as much involved as I could ever be."  
  
Chegwidden let out a deep sigh and apparently was making his peace with the situation at hand. He took a step in Harm's direction and all of a sudden, Harm found himself hugged by his CO, the brief gesture catching him totally off guard.  
  
"Sir..."  
  
"Good luck, Commander." AJ's voice was suddenly strained. "Bring her back to us. And take care of yourself."  
  
Harm was well aware that this had been the most sincere expression of his feelings for any of his subordinates that his CO had ever given. "I will, sir, I promise." He didn't trust his voice to any more words.  
  
Chegwidden turned to leave and went to the door. He pushed the handle and then turned again. "See you in four weeks, Commander. Then we'll discuss any further proceedings." He produced a tight smile.  
  
Harm swallowed, cast him a look of pure gratitude and came to attention. "Aye, aye, sir!"  
  
Jan. 9th 2350 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
During the last five days, almost all doctors and nurses who worked in intensive care had come to know the picture of the tall, dark-haired man sitting next to the woman in the coma. Sometimes he would talk to her, sometimes he would just sit by and watch, holding her hand. As he was no relation of hers, at first they wouldn't let him stay with her. But then the Navy's Judge Advocate General himself had ordered them to grant the commander permanent access to the colonel's room. It seemed she had no family at all and her working partner, as the commander had turned out to be, was the person nearest to her. Speculation about how close they really were had long since gotten hold of everyone's imagination.  
  
It tore at everyone's hearts, seeing his grief and the way he would spend his entire day until late at night at her side, trying to bring her back to consciousness or just letting her feel his presence. Each time a doctor had examined her, the commander would eagerly ask for every detail of her state, only to be disappointed that so far there had been no change whatsoever. True, the many cables around her had vanished one by one as her condition kept stabilizing, but the most positive one could say about the colonel's state was that it was stagnating at a secure level. It hurt to see the desperation showing in the commander's eyes whenever he spoke to the medical personnel. Before long, the two officers had become the main topic of concern in the nurses' rooms as well as among the doctors.  
  
Harm was unaware of the fact that he was giving the impression of having emerged right from some tragic paperback novel. All he was thinking about was finding a way to penetrate the firm wall that closed Mac out from the rest of the world. When he was honest with himself, he admitted that seeing her like this and feeling so utterly helpless was eating up more of his strength than he would have imagined. And that was something he just couldn't afford.  
  
So, for some little breaks, he had arranged her personal matters, talked the Roberts' into taking Jingo, instructed Sergei to drop by at Mac's every third day to get the mail, and he had seen to it that Chloe's grandmother could pick her granddaughter up at the Roberts' and take her home to Vermont.  
  
He had made Harriet send some of his and Mac's personal things to Yuma and had collected their clothes from the base. Everything had been kept in neat order. Yet, he was unable to find the necklace he had given her. She must have lost it back at Red Rock Mesa, he thought bitterly. He could have needed it now as his own source of strength. It would have been something to hold on to every time he started to involuntarily convince himself that their ever so short romance had happened in his imagination. As for reality, nothing more than his memories and his aching heart seemed to be left of what had started out as his private heaven. As the days dragged on, hope slowly but steadily gave way to grief.  
  
***********  
  
Having fetched himself a cup of coffee, Harm returned to Mac's bedside and once again wearily settled into the chair next to her. He had allowed a certain numbness to slip into his mind now and then. The feeling eased away part of the pain and gave him a few moments' rest. The wound on his thigh was healing fast. All he felt was a slight throbbing when he had walked a little too much.  
  
Harm took a sip of his coffee and looked at Mac who was lying on her back as motionless as ever. Too tired even to grieve, he then closed his eyes to try and recover a bit. He would need all his strength for no one knew how long, if he were ever to bring her back to D.C. - and to his life.  
  
Suddenly he started and sat bolt upright. He could have sworn he had heard a slight rustle. Instantly wary, he put his cup down and cast a look at his surroundings. All seemed quiet around them. But then his eyes wandered back to Mac and he gave a gasp. Her left hand was lying in a slightly different position from where it had been. The difference was minimal but he noticed it all the same. In an instant he was leaning over her, his heart throbbing wildly, hope and fear warring in his heart.  
  
"Mac," he called softly, his voice shaking a little. "Mac, can you hear me?"  
  
She gave no answer but Harm could see that her eyeballs were moving wildly behind her closed lids. He took her hand and squeezed it. "Mac!" he called again. "Mac, it's me! Tell me, where are you? Tell me how to get to you, honey."  
  
She made the smallest movement with her lips and Harm's heart nearly missed a beat. With trembling hands he pressed the button to call a nurse.  
  
A doctor entered the room shortly after. "What is it?" he asked, his concern showing.  
  
"Commander, you look like you're about to faint on me. You've never rung for anything yet. So why now? What's the matter?" The doctor gave him a concerned look, then took Mac's hand and felt for a pulse.  
  
"She moved." Harm had difficulties finding his voice. "First I only heard something and thought I was wrong but then I saw it. Does that mean she's going to wake up?"  
  
The doctor examined her in silence for a few moments. Then he looked up. "We could give it a try." Bending down again, he gently shook Mac's shoulder. "Ma'am, can you hear us? Wake up."  
  
Mac was stirring more visibly but still had her eyes firmly closed.  
  
The doctor tried again, then turned to Harm who had unconsciously held his breath and was clutching the edge of Mac's blanket in a death grip. "You try. She knows your voice."  
  
Harm once again bent over Mac's body. "Mac, it's me, Harm. Come on, open your eyes! Mac!" Desperate, Harm looked up at the doctor. "Words don't seem to reach her."  
  
"Try something a little more significant. Something she's used to."  
  
Pulling himself up to full height, Harm breathed in heavily and then, at full command voice, yelled, "Colonel Mackenzie, front and center!!"  
  
The doctor gave a start and jumped backwards. At Harm's low cry of amazement, he stepped close again. Mac had opened her eyes and was staring at them, thoroughly bewildered.  
  
Jan. 10th 0030 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
In the course of the last few hours, Mac had lost consciousness again a couple of times but eventually, they had managed to make her come to completely. The first thing she did was put a hand to the thick bandages around her head, groaning. Harm immediately bent over her.  
  
"Don't, hon. You're still very weak. Just lie still, okay? You've been through a lot. Do you remember anything?"  
  
Mac frowned but said nothing. The doctor stepped up to Harm. "Remember: maybe she can't talk or doesn't even understand what you're saying. We have to wait and see exactly how much damage the lack of oxygen caused to her brain." Harm swallowed and nodded slowly. Then he again turned to face Mac and tried a small smile.  
  
Mac coughed a little before she was able to speak up. "I don't remember a thing. Why am I here?" Her slightly raspy voice caught in her throat and she cleared it. "Where are we anyway?"  
  
Harm was overwhelmed with relief when he heard her speak even though her voice had suffered from the long days of intubation. He needed to steady himself, holding onto the bed, before he could take her hand to clasp it between his own. "We're at a military hospital in Yuma. You nearly got yourself killed in the attempt to save Chloe, Sergei and little AJ. God, Mac, I thought this time I'd lost you for good."  
  
Shuddering involuntarily, he smiled at her, but his smile fell as he saw the look of utmost confusion on her face. He felt her pull her hand back from his and a chill of fear threatened to paralyze him. A mix of dread, grief and compassion was showing on the doctor's features. He only mumbled something about having other patients to tend to and excused himself just a little too quickly.  
  
Mac was looking at Harm with wide eyes, apparently at a total loss as to what she was supposed to think. Then she smiled a little self-consciously. Harm braced himself for the worst, but still, the impact of her next words took his breath away and threw his life into a murderous tailspin.  
  
Again, Mac cleared her throat and coughed a little. When she finally spoke, her voice was achingly innocent. "I'm really sorry. But I'm afraid I don't understand. What did you say I did, nearly getting myself killed? And... uhm..." She chuckled a little helplessly, "I'm so embarrassed to ask as you seem to know me, but... have we ever met before?"  
  
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - highly appreciated!) 


	4. Chapter Four

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Four Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part three:  
  
Harm was overwhelmed with relief when he heard her speak even though her voice had suffered from the long days of intubation. He needed to steady himself, holding onto the bed, before he could take her hand to clasp it between his own. "We're at a military hospital in Yuma. You nearly got yourself killed in the attempt to save Chloe, Sergei and little AJ. God, Mac, I thought this time I'd lost you for good."  
  
Shuddering involuntarily, he smiled at her, but his smile fell as he saw the look of utmost confusion on her face. He felt her pull her hand back from his and a chill of fear threatened to paralyze him. A mix of dread, grief and compassion was showing on the doctor's features. He only mumbled something about having other patients to tend to and excused himself just a little too quickly.  
  
Mac was looking at Harm with wide eyes, apparently at a total loss as to what she was supposed to think. Then she smiled a little self-consciously. Harm braced himself for the worst, but still, the impact of her next words took his breath away and threw his life into a murderous tailspin.  
  
Again, Mac cleared her throat and coughed a little. When she finally spoke, her voice was achingly innocent. "I'm really sorry. But I'm afraid I don't understand. What did you say I did, nearly getting myself killed? And... uhm..." She chuckled a little helplessly, "I'm so embarrassed to ask as you seem to know me, but... have we ever met before?"  
  
Part Four:  
  
Deep silence followed the sentence. Mechanically, Harm reached for a nearby chair and settled down at her bedside, his eyes never leaving hers. She was obviously waiting for an answer and seemed to be searching his face for some hint as to what kind of answer she was about to get from him. Embarrassment and curiosity were shining in her eyes - but they were mingled with a considerable amount of anxiety as the moment was dragging out and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts straight.  
  
Harm's vocal chords refused their duties and just like her, he had to clear his throat several times, prolonging the moment even more. But the urge to speak was overwhelming, and he forced his voice to comply, regardless of any possible consequences.  
  
He tried a strained smile, if only to hide his own inward turmoil. "Mac, don't tell me you've forgotten what a pain in the..."  
  
He stopped short when he realized that the anxiety in her eyes had turned to despair. And it was then that it hit him for good: she really and truly didn't remember a single thing about him. It didn't matter that her injury apparently hadn't caused any major physical damage. And it didn't matter that this loss of memory had more likely been caused by the traumatic events she'd been through than by the bullet that had grazed her head. The result of whatever had caused it was devastating. The way she looked at him - daring him to assume he had any right whatsoever to claim a personal acquaintance, and at the same time frantically calling out to him to save her from the horror of oblivion, whoever he might be...  
  
Utterly unprepared for this situation as he was, one thing instantly became crystal clear before his conscious: to win her back, he had to keep his distance. He would help her with every single step on the way if she'd let him, but he knew he had to keep his feelings to himself at all costs. Mac was as lost as she could ever be and she was right now facing the battle of her lifetime to come back to herself. Not 'even though', but 'because' he loved her more than anything in the world, he had to avoid telling her anything that would throw her off track even more.  
  
He still remembered how he had felt when he had come to after his rescue from the Atlantic and Renée had told him that they had been an item for more than a year. The only thing he had wanted had been to figure out his situation and she had only added to his confusion - because she had loved him and had told him so. He had felt honor-bound to stay with her, and not only because Mac had been with Mic at the time. It had mostly been because he had believed what Renée had told him. Why would she lie about something as important as a personal relationship? And how could he have left her like that, seeing how involved she obviously was with him? He hadn't wanted to stay with Renée, but he had known he couldn't just walk out of her life. So, knowing Mac to be equally honorable - wouldn't she react in exactly the same way? When she'd have him around all the time, helping her through this ordeal, and knowing he loved her, wouldn't she stay with him, even though she didn't remember anything at all about him, just because she felt she was honor-bound to?  
  
If he'd ever let it come to this, their future would be doomed.  
  
Unbeknownst to the person next to him who was still staring at him with huge, terrified eyes, Harmon Rabb, Jr., made what might easily be the hardest decision of his entire life. Even though it was tearing him up from inside with a pain so powerful he thought he'd suffocate, he knew it was the right - no, the only - thing to do.  
  
He let her go.  
  
"Umm... sir?" Mac's hoarse voice had taken up a puzzled edge as she carefully reminded him of her presence.  
  
He jumped and, shutting his heart off for good, faced her with a tired half- smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... I'm still very tired because of my injury and I... uh... I guess I was indeed surprised that my colleague of six years doesn't remember me at all."  
  
If it was even possible, her eyes went wider still, but the desperation showing in them lessened just a little bit, hearing that she apparently did know him quite well. "Six years?" she asked, more to herself than to him. Then her brow furrowed. "An injury, you say? Does what happened to you have anything to do with me?"  
  
"Yes, it does," he explained calmly, pondering how much he could tell her without losing her somewhere on the way. Then, deciding he'd probably have to go back quite a long way anyway, he took the plunge. He'd soon find out if she remembered anything at all. "We were rescuing little AJ, Chloe and Sergei when the kidnappers opened fire. You were hit four times, to your thigh, at your shoulder and at your hip, and a ricochet grazed the back of your head. I got a bullet to my thigh as well, when I tried to get you out of the line of fire."  
  
He knew his explanation had done anything but cleared things up for her but this was as good a starting point as any, so he just waited for her to react.  
  
"Good God..." she mumbled and he thought he could see her thoughts chasing each other behind her forehead. "So, I... I guess I owe you my life, then," she concluded a little uneasily.  
  
Knowing any denial would only distort the truth, he just nodded. "You're welcome."  
  
The furrow on her brow eased a little and she seemed to take in his features. The features of her savior, whoever he might turn out to be. "Thank you... uh..." She stopped, lost.  
  
"Harm," he helped her in a low voice, trying to ignore the sting. "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., United States Navy, your working partner at the Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps."  
  
"I'm in the Navy?"  
  
Despite the tragedy, he couldn't help chuckling a little at her question. "You'd have introduced me to your right hook if I'd ever so much as joked about you being in the Navy, jarhead," he answered wistfully, lost in memories.  
  
"Excuse me?" Even though her voice was feeble, her surprise and annoyance were evident. "What did you just call me? Are you always this rude? And what makes you think I'd start a fight with you? I'm not suicidal, you know..."  
  
Sighing, Harm pulled himself up a little in his chair and resolved to take up Sisyphus's labor. "I'm sorry, Mac... I... why don't we just go all the way back to the beginning?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a flashback to the JAG-a-thon crossed his mind for a fleeting moment, and the irony wasn't lost on him. However, he had no time to dwell on the thought as just then the door opened and the doctor returned with two colleagues and a nurse in tow.  
  
"Well, Colonel Mackenzie, it's nice to have you with us again," he said a little too cheerfully, ignoring Harm. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I don't really know," came the uneasy answer.  
  
"But we do," the doctor went on in his honeyed voice. "We had all your vitals monitored closely, you know, until last night when we decided you were stable enough to go without help, except for the additional oxygen tube to your nose. But what would you say if we took that tube away, too, and moved you to a somewhat nicer room? The ICU's not exactly cozy. I guess you'd like to leave here as soon as you can."  
  
Mac gave a weary "Sounds good," but Harm could clearly detect the 'Damned- right-I-do!' in her words. In an odd way, this ever so slight reminder of her gung-ho mentality managed to alleviate his mood a little. She was still Mac. Now she only needed to learn who Mac was.  
  
Jan. 10th 0017 ZULU Admiral Chegwidden's house McLean, Virginia  
  
AJ put his book aside and quickly strode over to the telephone that was ringing persistently. Actually, it wasn't ringing any differently from how it normally did, but still, there was something to the tone this time that had his apprehension growing. And knowing that a similar sense of foreboding normally came in connection with his chief of staff, AJ was sure that this call must have something to do with her. Dreading the news he might be about to receive, he picked up.  
  
"Chegwidden."  
  
["Sir, this is Commander Rabb."]  
  
AJ's grip on the receiver tightened. He'd known it all along. "Commander, how's the situation?" he asked warily.  
  
["She woke up, sir."]  
  
A wave of joy flowed through the admiral's body. He hadn't lost the woman he'd always loved like his own daughter - and at times maybe even more. "That's wonderful, Harm," he said, a sigh of relief resounding in his words.  
  
["Yes, sir."]  
  
The obvious lack of joy and enthusiasm in the younger man's voice took him aback. "Commander," he asked sharply, "What aren't you telling me?"  
  
The pause that followed the question made him hold his breath; all previous elation vanished instantly.  
  
["She's got amnesia, sir."]  
  
The short, next-to-no-info answers of his subordinate started to infuriate him. "Details, Rabb," he barked, taking refuge into anger so he wouldn't have to face the fear. "What doesn't she remember?"  
  
["Everything, it seems, sir..."] The commander's voice had reduced to little more than a whisper and AJ could tell Harm was fighting to keep his composure. ["She even asked me if she knew me."]  
  
"Dear God... what are the chances she'll get her memory back?"  
  
["No one can tell, sir. I've been told that judging by her physical state, the memory loss is more likely the result of her traumatic experiences in connection with the hit at the head. The doctor says we should be grateful the bullet only grazed the skull and that she's awake and moving. That she's thinking and speaking seems to be a miracle in itself."]  
  
AJ slowly sat down on the couch, horrified - and hurting for both of his friends. Both were facing a dreadful ordeal - Mac, fighting to get some hold on anything from her former life, and Harm, seeing his love had forgotten he even existed.  
  
His love. AJ braced himself. He hated to intrude but he felt he had to know the truth if he wanted to be able to support them in some way. "Harm," he ventured carefully, "Since when exactly have you and Mac been together?"  
  
Harm didn't even try to deny. ["New Year, sir,"] came the toneless answer. ["About an hour before Harriet's call."]  
  
They hadn't even had the time to get to know each other as lovers - emotionally as well as physically. AJ's heart went out to them. Mac's bottomless grief about Harm being lost at sea was still vivid in his memory. Back then, she'd been about to marry another man. But now, she and Harm seemed to have - finally - managed to lay all the cards on the table and talk from the heart. He couldn't even begin to understand what Harm had to be going through.  
  
AJ wished he were able to help them wake from this nightmare, or to at least ease the pain somehow... and suddenly, it struck him. He could in fact do some genuine good here. And he would, so help him God.  
  
"I can't tell you how sorry I am, and I know that sounds terribly flat," he began. "But I want you to know that we're all in this with you. Me, Bud and Harriet, Sturgis - we'll all do whatever we can to help you in some way."  
  
Harm's voice conveyed a tired, rueful smile. ["Thank you, sir, I appreciate that, but I doubt there's anything you can help us with right now - except figuring out a way how I can stay with Mac and not face AWOL charges. Or how I can ensure she'll still have her old life to come back to once she gets there."]  
  
"As a matter of fact: that was exactly what I was getting at, Commander," AJ replied. "I know it seems way too early to think of things as secondary as this, but I know how much it'll mean to both of you. You'll understand that I can't prolong Mac's leave indefinitely without revealing what happened. She could also resign her commission at once in this case, because no one would ever allow her to stay in the service if she doesn't come back to her normal self within the next three weeks. If it takes longer than that, everyone will always suspect that some permanent brain damage occurred. And with that, she won't be allowed to remain in the service at all."  
  
["I guess not, sir."] He could tell Harm hadn't really considered this possibility before. He seemed shocked at the perspective of Mac facing a disability discharge. So AJ hurried to set his mind at ease.  
  
"However, as for now, only me, you and the doctors know. You and I can keep this a secret, and the doctors are bound by medical confidentiality. We might need to tell a few trustworthy people later on, but if you could keep her from revealing her memory loss to anyone right now until she can leave the hospital, and if you could supply her with everything she'll need to know immediately, then the memory loss might go unnoticed. Then, you'd just need to figure out a reason why she might want to go into reserves and retreat from active duty, for now, and talk her into signing that letter. If all goes well, she could be reinstated to her position without major problems whenever she's ready."  
  
Again, silence reigned for a few seconds as his offer seemed to sink in at the other end of the phone line. When he finally answered, Harm's voice was a little shaky. ["Thank you, sir,"] he only choked out very low.  
  
"Anytime, son. And good luck," AJ gently replied and ended the connection without any more words. He knew that probably neither of them would have been able to talk very much anyway right now.  
  
Jan. 10th 1522 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
When she heard the slight creaking of the door, the woman occupying the single bed instantly turned her head in the direction the sound was coming from, eager to absorb any detail whatsoever that might in some way give her an idea of who she was. As of now, she didn't really know a thing. It felt as if she didn't even exist - and the feeling was scaring her to no end.  
  
She had gotten a few crumbs of information before she had been brought here, and had then been forced to give in to her exhaustion and sleep. When she had woken, the first thing she had felt was the fear that she might already have forgotten what little she had learned just a few hours ago. But then, wracking her brain - or whatever was left of it, she thought wearily - she had been able to put the information together. Still, it made no sense.  
  
Her name was Mackenzie. Apparently, her friends called her Mac. If this Commander Rabb - Harm - really was a friend of hers. She had no way of knowing for sure. Her gut told her to trust him. The expression of concern and caring in his eyes had seemed ever so sincere. Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Right now, she was as vulnerable as a newborn child.  
  
At least the doctor had confirmed something Harm had told her. He had called her 'Colonel Mackenzie' and then, this was a military hospital. She had figured out as much. So she really was in the military. If what Harm had told her was true, she had to be a Marine. There were no colonels in the Navy. She had asked herself again and again why she would know such general details as this and remember nothing about herself, and she had dug frantically for anything whatsoever that might point her to a more personal line of thinking. Yet, nothing had come of it. She had to stick to what Harm would be able to tell her.  
  
If he was a commander and her working partner, she had to be a lieutenant colonel, she supposed. She doubted she could be ranking higher than him. Apparently, she was a lawyer. A frightening thought, given the fact that she couldn't remember ever reading a law book. But she would worry about that later. For the moment, she accepted it as a given that she was Lieutenant Colonel "Mac" Mackenzie, a lawyer working with the Navy's JAG. How she knew what JAG was anyway, she couldn't tell. She just did.  
  
And now this weird story about her and him saving someone and being shot - this was where she lost track of what was going on. Her life was no freaking movie, damn it. Lawyers didn't chase kidnappers except if they were called Robert Redford in real life. She'd grill Harm on that one, she resolved, seeing him step into the room, a self-conscious smile on his face.  
  
A handsome face it was, she had to admit, and a handsome appearance altogether. Surely he'd have women waiting in line. Definitely not her man. She knew she just hated those Don-Juan types, speaking in terms of relationships. Yet, if he was willing to help her and if they got on well at work, she could have had worse company in her current situation. Where was her family anyway? Harm was the only one who'd shown up yet.  
  
He stepped close, pulled up a chair and sat down at her side, the self- conscious expression still in place. This surprised her a little - a man like him was supposed to be as sure of himself as anyone. But this would be another detail to be added to her getting-to-know list and stored for later. Now, her priorities were somewhat different.  
  
"Hi, Marine," he greeted her in a low, warm voice, startling her as she felt his words go right through to her soul. There was something about the sound of his voice that struck her, but she willed herself to ignore the feeling. 'Later,' she told herself, frowning inwardly.  
  
"Hey... umm..." she stopped, feeling her smile turn a little strained. How did one reply wittily to that one? "Uh... sailor?" she tried. His reaction told her she had picked the right guess - and for what followed, she was completely unprepared.  
  
His face lit up. The way he smiled at her had to be the most stunning manifestation of a warm, likeable disposition she had ever seen. 'Lethal,' she mused, again picturing women lining up in front of his door. And yet - there was something so genuinely good and compassionate in his expression that she was instantly afraid she wouldn't be able to be on her guard around him.  
  
"I see you pardoned me for being rude earlier," he remarked.  
  
"Maybe..." she replied, finding it hard to keep the corners of her mouth relaxed. "But what was that you said to me anyway? Jarhead?"  
  
His glance turned just a little guilty. "Yep," he admitted sheepishly. "You know, you Marines and us sailors tend to... well... disagree on what's more important - in war, in training, in... whatever. Each branch has its pride. So, to make a long story short, just call me 'squid' next time I forget my manners. So we're equal."  
  
Soft laughter bubbled up inside her. This self-irony definitely suited him, she decided. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."  
  
He chuckled with her, but sobered quickly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, concern showing in his eyes.  
  
"I don't really know," she answered honestly, looking down on her hands and straightening a little in her half-seated position. "Confused as hell covers it nicely, I think."  
  
She saw him make a movement as if to take her hand but he drew back immediately. "I can imagine." Again, the velvety sound of his voice easily penetrated the walls she was trying to erect around herself.  
  
Looking up, she fixed her glance to his. His eyes were of an amazing shade of deep blue, with just the right amount of green shining through. "No," she said calmly. "In fact, you can't."  
  
"Actually, I do know how you feel," he replied, leaving her staring at him in mild astonishment. "At least partly," he continued. "Last May, I had to eject over the Atlantic and was out in the water for hours. When they finally found me, I was barely alive, and when I came to, I suffered partial amnesia for a few days."  
  
It seemed he had really been in her place, at least to some extent. "You ejected?" she asked, trying to get some order into the facts. "I thought you were a lawyer."  
  
With a rueful half-smile, he explained, "I am. I used to fly F-14s, but I caused a ramp strike in '92, due to eye problems. So I changed designator."  
  
The expression on his features had turned just a little pained. She could feel there was more to the story... as there seemed to be more to just about everything she came across. Squaring her shoulders, she forced her focus back on the task at hand, getting to know herself. All details concerning her surroundings would follow later on. Still, one question had piqued her curiosity.  
  
"Where was I when you were lost at sea, and afterwards, at the hospital? Was I with you?"  
  
Again, she noted that his brow furrowed considerably as he seemed to ponder his answer. 'He's not being sincere,' she thought sadly, wishing her impression of him were different.  
  
"You had personal issues to tend to at the time," he answered, his voice guarded. "And that prevented you from coming to the hospital very often. Still, you played an important role in bringing me back to myself."  
  
So he probably was just paying back what she had done for him back then, she mused. Yet, he was being a little too hesitant in answering her questions. Was he concerned that she might not be able to digest the info yet? Or what was there to conceal about her life?  
  
Deciding on a slight change of topic, she swallowed her uneasiness best as she could. "That was probably far easier than what we've got at hand right now," she stated in a low voice. "Your memory loss was partial, you said. Well, apparently, mine isn't. I don't even know my own name." Her gaze dropped.  
  
She gave a start when she felt his hand shyly touching her shoulder, asking her to look at him. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and what she saw in his eyes overwhelmed her with the depth of emotion he seemed to be trying to hide, but couldn't. He seemed to have a truly compassionate heart. Somehow, this thought moved her deeply.  
  
"You're going to be fine," he answered just as low as she had spoken, intently looking at her. "If you're willing to let me, I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you come back to your normal self. Trust me, Sarah."  
  
Sarah.  
  
She could feel goose-bumps at the back of her neck. 'Sarah Mackenzie' - the name didn't feel familiar, but it did ring a bell somewhere deep inside her mind. A first step in the right direction? 'Please, God, let me be right...'  
  
Harm was still looking at her, studying her features for any signs of a reaction. Making an effort, she managed to force the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Then she held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Harmon. I am Sarah."  
  
Confused, she noted that he swallowed heavily. "It's Harm," he repeated. "And you tell everyone to call you Mac. Maybe we should leave it at that?"  
  
"Is it a problem for you to use my given name?" This man was turning out a real puzzle.  
  
He ran a hand through his hair. "No, but..." Again, he hesitated, confirming her suspicion that she was getting an edited version of her story. Her anger growing, she spoke up.  
  
"The truth. And not just this once, Harm. You understand 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth', don't you? And don't ask me how I knew that. I've got no f...reaking idea."  
  
He sighed, apparently resolving to give in. "It's just that 'Sarah' is someone you tend to keep to yourself, Mac. 'Mac' is the one we're all friends with. I didn't think you'd want that to change just now."  
  
Boy, was this ever getting complex. She stifled an exasperated face. Well, this schizophrenia would stop from now on. She felt no need to get to know a multiple personality when one would do just fine. And somehow she knew she wanted to be Sarah. She didn't know the bearer of the name - but she felt like Sarah was the one she was reaching out to.  
  
"Actually, I do want it to change," she declared determinedly, ignoring the flash of pain that crossed his features ever so briefly. Her jaw set, she again stuck out her hand to him. "Let's try this again: I'm delighted to meet you, Harm."  
  
Hesitantly, he reached for her fingers and finally encircled them with his own, the warm contact instantly electrifying her. Still holding her gaze, he solemnly replied, "Believe me, Sarah, so am I."  
  
For a long moment, their eyes held. Then she felt she couldn't stand the tension any longer and broke the contact - eyes as well as hands. While she was readjusting her blanket, she tried to get the conversation going again.  
  
"Tell me, how exactly did we end up here?"  
  
"Okay, I'll try to make this short," he began, pulling a photo out of his wallet and handing it to her. It was kind of an informal family photo, apparently very recent. In the middle was a couple, a young, slightly stout man with a blond woman, his wife, she supposed. The woman was holding a boy of about three years on her arms. To her right, a tall, balding man was towering over her. Next to him stood a handsome African-American. To the young man's left, she spotted a woman with dark hair and big brown eyes, standing just next to Harm. Suddenly, her hand started to tremble. She knew this face.  
  
"This is me, isn't it?" she whispered.  
  
"Yeah..." he softly acknowledged. Then his voice turned neutral. "The couple in the middle are Lieutenants Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims-Roberts. Bud is a lawyer and Harriet is an office executive. They're colleagues of ours at JAG. As is this nice man here," he indicated the African-American. "This is Commander Sturgis Turner, former submariner and now a JAG lawyer, too. Pal of mine back from Naval Academy. And this," his finger moved to the last figure in the picture, "Is our commanding officer, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. He passed his name on to this little guy," he indicated the child on Harriet's arms. "AJ Roberts, three years old, your and my godson."  
  
Sarah was touched. "He's adorable."  
  
Harm nodded. "Yes, he is. And we love him very much, I can tell you that. Mac, uh... I'm sorry... Sarah... now we're getting to the point." His expression had turned very earnest and Sarah felt her apprehension grow as he went on, "Ten months ago, Bud and I prosecuted a Naval officer for murder and got him convicted to life at Fort Leavenworth, the armed forces' prison. You were assigned his defense counsel and when he was found guilty, he swore he'd get back at us. He did, on New Years Eve."  
  
It seemed to her that he was waiting for any indication as to if she was still following him. "I see," she cut in, although she didn't, but that didn't matter right now. "What did he do?"  
  
"We were at a ball in D.C., you, me, Bud and Harriet," Harm explained. Sarah made a mental side-note: she had gone to a ball with Harm. In private. Definitely a detail that needed further inquiry. 'Later,' she once again admonished herself. Harm went on, "When we... when I'd taken you home, Harriet called and told us that there'd been a break in at their house. Little AJ and his babysitters were gone. And said babysitters happened to be Chloe, the girl you were tutoring in the Big Sister Program, and my Russian half-brother Sergei. Don't ask for details now, these are two long stories of their own." He held up a hand, silencing her. "Anyway, we knew this was the doing of the officer we had gotten convicted and you knew where to find them. We went out there, bailed them out, were being shot at and... well, this is the result."  
  
"Phew," Sarah made, amazement warring with disbelief and anger in her soul. "I can't quite bring myself to believe that lawyers like us would go and get them ourselves. But the wounds are there, so I'll leave it at that. This Chloe - she's not my real sister, I understand. Who IS my family, then?" She could hear that her voice had taken on a slightly accusing edge but she couldn't help it. What was Harm trying to accomplish, telling her stories as crazy as this one? She could really need an honest ally... sad that it shouldn't be him.  
  
Harm had apparently understood her mood and picked up on it. "Mac - Sarah..."  
  
'Why is it so difficult for him to comply with my wish?' she thought with a mental frown.  
  
He tried again. "You'll find that our lives have grazed certain borderlines more than once," he ventured carefully. "I know many things will sound weird, lunatic even. I can only offer my word of honor as an officer that what I'm telling you is true." His expression was very sincere and she felt strongly inclined to believe him, but she forcefully reminded herself to be on her guard. 'Everyone might be your enemy,' she told herself. 'Don't let yourself be lured into trusting someone you barely know.'  
  
"Okay," she only said, not quite sure what her answer was meant to imply. "So, now, my family."  
  
When she saw him wince, she felt like she wanted to shake him. "Damn it, Harm," she said in a low voice, "If I'm a Marine, as you keep telling me I am, I can handle whatever there is to tell. Spill it."  
  
She heard him sigh. "Your father is dead." Harm's voice sounded defeated and monotone. "He died about three years ago. You were never close. He was an abusive alcoholic. Your mother left him - and you - when you turned fifteen. You met her again at your father's deathbed but you didn't stay in contact. You have no brothers or sisters. Your uncle, Marine Colonel Matthew O'Hara, is... on a mission abroad right now and not allowed to get in touch. You were married but your husband died in an accident involving a handgun. You have no children. That's it."  
  
Sarah sat thunderstruck. This was her life. And from Harm's hesitation, she knew he had tried to give her the inevitable facts only. Now she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the rest of it. What good was getting your life back if it turned out such a mess?  
  
Compassion shone in Harm's eyes when she turned her head to face him. "Sarah, I'm so sorry, I wanted to..."  
  
He didn't get to finish his sentence. The door opened and a young nurse stepped in, holding a box of chocolates. She was smiling widely. "Ma'am, sir, I just wanted to give you this on behalf of all the nurses who looked after you in Intensive Care. We don't know any details about your condition, ma'am, but as we can see that you're already catching up, we wanted to wish you all the best. Welcome back, ma'am."  
  
"Thank you so much," Sarah replied happily, "I really appreciate that."  
  
"You're welcome, ma'am." With a shy wave, the nurse retreated from the room and closed the door again.  
  
Sarah opened the box and chose a piece of chocolate, glad to have a little sweet consolation to help her over the sad things she'd just learned about herself. But just when she was about to open her mouth, Harm quickly snatched both, chocolate and box, away from her hands, his expression horrified.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, at a loss and annoyed for good this time. The commander was a genuine nuisance.  
  
"There's rum in it," Harm explained very low, apparently not even daring to face her, but she needed him to. After all, he had provoked her.  
  
"So what?" she shot back, noting with satisfaction that he seemed to be lifting his eyes to hers against his own will.  
  
"You mustn't eat that," he stated in a pained voice. Then he took a deep breath. "You're an alcoholic, Sarah, like your father. You've been sober for over ten years now, except for once and that was understandable, given the situation. But you need to continue on that path."  
  
Deep silence prevailed when he had finished his sentence. Sarah was too shell-shocked even to breathe. It wasn't just her life that was a mess - she was.  
  
Her eyes were glued to her hands that were resting in her lap. Her mind was spinning. Where the devil was she supposed to go from here? What was there to come back to after all? And would this really be worth the effort? Right now, the only answers she could think of were 'nowhere', 'nothing' and 'no'.  
  
When she felt his hand on her shoulder again, she gave in to the inevitable and looked up, allowing him to see there were tears in her eyes. He reached out as if to brush them away but she recoiled, making his shoulders drop.  
  
"Sarah..." Again, the tone of his voice struck her. And suddenly she found it was too much to bear.  
  
"Harm, I... I'm sorry, but, please, leave me alone," she managed to murmur. "I need to think this through on my own."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Please."  
  
He nodded silently, got up and left the room, throwing her one last, sad look before the door snapped shut. To her, it felt as if he had walked out of her life.  
  
She couldn't really blame him.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	5. Chapter Five

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Five Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part four:  
  
Her eyes were glued to her hands that were resting in her lap. Her mind was spinning. Where the devil was she supposed to go from here? What was there to come back to after all? And would this really be worth the effort? Right now, the only answers she could think of were 'nowhere', 'nothing' and 'no'.  
  
When she felt his hand on her shoulder again, she gave in to the inevitable and looked up, allowing him to see there were tears in her eyes. He reached out as if to brush them away but she recoiled, making his shoulders drop.  
  
"Sarah..." Again, the tone of his voice struck her. And suddenly she found it was too much to bear.  
  
"Harm, I... I'm sorry, but, please, leave me alone," she managed to murmur. "I need to think this through on my own."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Please."  
  
He nodded silently, got up and left the room, throwing her one last, sad look before the door snapped shut. To her, it felt as if he had walked out of her life.  
  
She couldn't really blame him.  
  
Part Five:  
  
Jan. 14th 0112 ZULU Countryside outside Yuma Arizona  
  
Sweat was running down his temples across his jaw and his neck, soaking the T-shirt that was already clinging to his body. Harm's breath came in ragged gasps that weren't far from actual groans of pain. Every single bouncing step still hurt like hell but Harm couldn't stop. He had lost track of how many miles he'd run today. He knew he should still go easy on himself, let his leg heal, but sitting idle, he was slowly going insane. His inward pain and frustration needed a valve and wearing himself out up to the point of total exhaustion was the only thing that helped.  
  
During the last couple of days, it had cost him every single ounce of his mental strength to comply with Mac's wish of being left alone. At first, he had tried several times to get to her, but she had given instructions to the medical personnel not to let anyone see her. She had left a note for him, explaining that he shouldn't take it personally, that it was herself she didn't get along with, not him, and that she needed time. And she had stated that she had decided to turn to less personal things, trying to explore her memory. So she had asked him to let her have a few things to read - federal law, the UCMJ, a few case files. Although it had saddened him a lot, seeing she was closing herself off, he had instantly called Harriet, considering her and Bud trustworthy and real friends enough to reveal Mac's state and enlist their logistic help.  
  
Harriet had been devastated, hearing the news, but she had immediately assembled the requested items. The UPS package had arrived early this morning and Harm had at once dropped it off at the hospital with a note for Mac. Now there was really nothing left for him to do but wait until she'd let him get near again. And if there was one thing in the world that Harm felt he couldn't bear, it was being kept on hold until someone else decided he could have a hand in what was happening. It was eating him alive.  
  
Gritting his teeth and trying to block out the jabs of pain shooting through his body, Harm kept up his pace, his eyes fixed to the horizon, when suddenly, in the pocket of his sweatpants, his cell-phone started to beep. He stopped, panting.  
  
"Rabb."  
  
["You lied to me."] Her voice was icy. ["Why?"]  
  
Still trying to catch his breath, he answered, confused, "What do you mean?"  
  
["About my uncle. 'Abroad on assignment. Can't get in touch.' Ring a bell?"] He could tell she was furious.  
  
"Mac..."  
  
["Sarah."]  
  
He sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry. Sarah, I wasn't sure how much I could..."  
  
["The truth, Commander. You promised."]  
  
Guilt was making his stomach knot but he was still reluctant to spill every single detail. The case had too much potential to hurt and confuse her. "Yeah, I did. I'm sorry," he repeated in a low voice. "How did you find out?" Maybe he would get a hint as to how much she already knew.  
  
["The People vs. Colonel Matthew O'Hara".]  
  
Harm's heart sank. "I didn't check what files Harriet packed for you... that was among them?" If she had read the reports, she knew exactly what he had tried to conceal. That her uncle was in Leavenworth - and that this was the point she had to go back to in order to know how they had met. Harm had so hoped he could have given her some indefinite story about having investigated a case together, as if it had been nothing more than an ordinary assignment. Now he knew what questions would follow sooner or later - and that she'd be wary of him and see right through him if he tried to omit anything vital. Damn.  
  
The silence stretched, the only sound crossing the phone-line being Harm's breathing that was slowly returning normal. Harm felt the tension that was building up between them. He could almost hear it crackle in the connection and he knew he was supposed to respond. But for the love of God, he had no idea what she wanted to hear. So, just to say something - anything - before she would end the call, he gave a non-committant, "Well?"  
  
["This is all you have to say?"] Her coldness cut right through his heart, and suddenly he felt he was getting angry.  
  
"Dammit, Mac, what do you want me to say? So you've read the case file. Good! Then maybe you've noticed that for a start, this isn't exactly the easiest topic. You've got absolutely no idea about who you are and you expect me to get into your screwed-up family matters right away? Get real!" He had vented the edge off his rage and hearing her suck in her breath, he calmed down a little, swallowing. "I'm so sorry..." he breathed, mentally slapping himself for his insensitivity. "Really, I'm sorry... this was uncalled for. I..." He took a steadying breath and resolved to take matters into his own hands.  
  
"Sarah?"  
  
At first, he thought she wouldn't answer. But after a few moments he heard a low, somewhat choked ["Yeah?"]  
  
"Can I see you in the hospital garden in thirty?"  
  
He heard her swallow. ["Okay,"] she finally acknowledged very low and ended the connection.  
  
For a full two minutes Harm remained rooted in the middle of the deserted country road, his hands on his hips, staring at the ground before his feet. She wanted progress. He wanted healing. She wanted answers. He wanted her.  
  
This was never going to work.  
  
Jan. 15th 0155 ZULU Hospital garden Yuma, Arizona  
  
As soon as she saw his lanky frame approach in the afternoon sunlight, Sarah felt herself tense and hated herself for being so emotional. Maybe this 'Mac' was quite a useful role after all, she thought as she was trying to compose herself. Maybe she should close Sarah off again and put up a firm façade... but no. Unconsciously, she shook her head at herself. She wanted the pure, absolute truth about who she was and Sarah would prove just as strong as Mac. So help her God.  
  
Yet, Harm's behavior had thrown her off balance more severely than she wanted to acknowledge. 'I did miss him,' she grudgingly admitted to herself, 'And I wish he were the real friend he claims to be. If I could just trust him...' But that was impossible. Just this morning she'd received evidence enough to put her on her guard. And what he had said earlier about her family had hurt. Badly. This wasn't the way friends were supposed to be around each other. What if being friends had never been more than a wish on both sides, never come true because they were unable to communicate?  
  
She had been astonished to realize just how much this thought was tearing at her heart.  
  
Well, she would accept nothing but the truth, she swore to herself for the umpteenth time, trying to ignore the trepidation that was making her hug herself more tightly. 'If you want to be my friend, Harmon, you'd better start acting like one.'  
  
Meanwhile, Harm had reached the bench she was sitting on. "Hey," he greeted her uneasily and motioned to the seat next to her. "May I?"  
  
"Sure." Instinctively, she moved a little away from him.  
  
His eyes were scrutinizing her, seeming to leave behind a tickling feeling wherever they had traveled. His voice was apologetic and unsure as well as compassionate. "You look better," he cautiously began.  
  
"About time," she replied. Again, the silence began to stretch. Sarah felt her previous fury return. How could he just sit there and look at her with this sincere expression that was so disarming? 'Say something, you jerk,' she mentally challenged him, frowning unconsciously.  
  
As if he'd heard her, he complied. Breaking the eye contact and looking down, he heaved a sigh. "Look, Sarah, I..." She could see the effort it was taking him to meet her gaze again. "I meant it. I'm sorry about what I said about your family. Your uncle is one of the finest people I've ever met and I have the highest respect for him. I was... well, I guess I was just afraid the whole story would be too much to digest for you just now. But," he squared his shoulders and tried a half-smile. "I'm sorry I didn't trust your strength, Marine. I should have known better."  
  
Smiling a little herself now, Sarah was about to reply when she saw him sober again, his expression begging her to let him finish, so she only nodded. When he went on, she was astonished to detect a hint of pain in his tone. "I promise I'll be honest from now on. You deserve as much. I just beg you to go a little easy on me, too." Her astonishment rising, she noted that his voice lowered even more. "I'm looking at my best friend on Earth who's desperate to come back to her true self, and that's not exactly an easy sight to bear."  
  
This was a turn she definitely hadn't expected. Seeing this tall, broad- shouldered image of a by-the-book hero sitting there, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, admitting that he was hurting for her, completely blew her defenses - and the picture she'd gotten of him. Suddenly, she found it amazingly easy to accept that whatever he had done wrong had been done with good intentions. Harmon Rabb, Jr., cared about her and this whole situation was difficult not only for her.  
  
Reaching out and surprising herself just as much as him, she placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed it gently. "Right now I'm having a hard time trusting anyone or anything," she answered. "But I'll try to learn to trust you."  
  
The sudden spark in his eyes and the tentative smile that returned to his face made her heart jump slightly. It was then that she knew she really and truly had a friend she could rely on.  
  
"Can you trust that I don't make promises I can't keep?" he asked carefully, his eyes begging her to say 'yes'.  
  
Knowing she was in considerable danger of losing herself in this amazing sea of blue, she nodded and, out of a sudden inspiration that she couldn't guess the origin of, she replied, "You haven't yet."  
  
It surprised her to hear him draw a sharp breath. For a brief moment, his eyes widened but he apparently tried to conceal the sudden outburst of emotion best as he could. But not well enough.  
  
"Harm? Everything okay?" she asked, worried and confused.  
  
He let his gaze wander around quickly and aimlessly until he seemed to find the strength to face her again. "Why did you say that?" he queried, his voice slightly hoarse.  
  
Sarah had no idea why her answer had shaken him so much. "I don't know. Of course I don't know you well enough to be sure you don't break your word but..." She made an exasperated movement with her hands. "Call me insane but... I could... kind of see it, you know?" She was desperately struggling for words to describe the sensation and she knew she was failing miserably, judging by how Harm was still fixing her gaze, incredulous. She gave up. "Hell, it just felt the right thing to say. Make of that what you will."  
  
She started when he took her hand. "No..." he quickly replied. Confusion was still ringing in his voice but something she would have labeled awed reassurance was shining through now as well, doing anything but set her at ease.  
  
"No, it's not insane at all," was his astonishing answer, a smile slowly creeping up his face again. "You know, at JAG you're famous for having kind of a sixth sense. Comes in pretty handy at times," he said with a slight chuckle before his face clouded afresh and he let go of her hand. "What took me aback were the words you used. Because you..."  
  
Out of nowhere, a scene crossed her mind: a brick-stone building, a doorway, a few steps leading up to it. She was there and Harm was there, too. Green. Her uniform was green. His was white. They were shaking hands.  
  
"Don't make a promise you can't keep."  
  
"I haven't yet."  
  
"Because I said them to you before," she cut in tonelessly, shivering - if from the evening breeze or from anything else she wasn't sure.  
  
Harm nodded slowly. "Is there anything else you remember?" he asked, failing to fully hide the hope that was showing on his features.  
  
Swallowing in defeat, she looked down, shaking her head. "No. And I don't have the slightest idea where that came from."  
  
He sighed. "It's a start, though." She could tell he was trying to encourage her, but his voice was completely sober and disillusioned.  
  
"Yeah..." she agreed without much enthusiasm. Lifting her eyes again, she decided to continue fighting. "What did we agree upon?"  
  
He winced, his face contorting slightly, and took a deep breath. "The history of our friendship is complicated, Sarah. If you really want to understand how we survived six years of constant battle and still always referred to each other as best friends, you should maybe not start right at that point. It's just too far off from what friends normally talk about."  
  
His eyes were imploring her not to dwell on the subject and seeing how uneasy it seemed to make him, she was about to give in when a little voice at the back of her head reminded her that it was the whole truth, and nothing but the truth that she needed to come back. And she knew that if she asked, he wouldn't try his escape. The moment she made the decision, she could see that he could read it in her eyes, and he submitted to her need for an explanation. She didn't even need to say it aloud.  
  
"It was the day little AJ Roberts was born," Harm explained, his voice monotone. "The ambulance arrived only after Harriet had given birth in the admiral's office at JAG. When they were finally off to the hospital, you and I were standing in front of JAG headquarters, watching them leave. You were musing about your biological clock and how you doubted you'd have a family one day. So I said that if neither of us were in a relationship five years from that day, we might as well go halves on a kid. A pact between best friends. That was two and a half years ago."  
  
Sarah needed a few seconds to reassemble her thoughts. Letting out a nervous chuckle, she commented, "Okay, I see your point. This is definitely beyond the confines of an ordinary friendship." She shook her head vigorously as if the movement would somehow clear it. But looking at her friend, she knew he had told her the truth, weird as it might seem. So maybe she should indeed rely on his advice and not dwell on the subject any further for the moment but go back to the beginning instead. Yet, there was one thing she had to know before she would continue on that journey.  
  
"Harm... have we ever been... involved with each other?" She didn't dare face him.  
  
"We were never lovers if that's what you're asking," she heard him reply cautiously and looked up in slight surprise - and disappointment, as she noted, astonished about herself.  
  
"Then why would you make such an offer to me?" she asked, at a loss.  
  
"Because we've always been very close, right from the very start." Once again, his words went straight through to her heart.  
  
"Tell me about 'The People vs. Matthew O'Hara'," was all she replied.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	6. Chapter Six

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Six Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'  
  
From part five:  
  
"It was the day little AJ Roberts was born," Harm explained, his voice monotone. "The ambulance arrived only after Harriet had given birth in the admiral's office at JAG. When they were finally off to the hospital, you and I were standing in front of JAG headquarters, watching them leave. You were musing about your biological clock and how you doubted you'd have a family one day. So I said that if neither of us were in a relationship five years from that day, we might as well go halves on a kid. A pact between best friends. That was two and a half years ago."  
  
Sarah needed a few seconds to reassemble her thoughts. Letting out a nervous chuckle, she commented, "Okay, I see your point. This is definitely beyond the confines of an ordinary friendship." She shook her head vigorously as if the movement would somehow clear it. But looking at her friend, she knew he had told her the truth, weird as it might seem. So maybe she should indeed rely on his advice and not dwell on the subject any further for the moment but go back to the beginning instead. Yet, there was one thing she had to know before she would continue on that journey.  
  
"Harm... have we ever been... involved with each other?" She didn't dare face him.  
  
"We were never lovers if that's what you're asking," she heard him reply cautiously and looked up in slight surprise - and disappointment, as she noted, astonished about herself.  
  
"Then why would you make such an offer to me?" she asked, at a loss.  
  
"Because we've always been very close, right from the very start." Once again, his words went straight through to her heart.  
  
"Tell me about 'The People vs. Matthew O'Hara'," was all she replied.  
  
Part Six:  
  
Jan. 15th 0412 ZULU Military hospital Yuma, Arizona  
  
"You comfortable?" Harm had adjusted the backrest of Mac's bed to an angle that had her almost sitting but she had wanted it this way. Fluffing the pillow a little before she leaned back against it, he searched her face for any signs that she was feeling uneasy having him around but he didn't see any. Hopefully their earlier conversation had cleared the air to some extent so that they would finally be able to face the long, bumpy road of her recovery. Together.  
  
Mac looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, that's perfect, thank you." The smile she gave him confirmed his hopes. They could indeed go on from here.  
  
"I promise I'll answer all your questions at once, but first," he held up his hand in an apologetic gesture as she was about to protest, "First, I have a few details for you from your doctors."  
  
She nodded, her apprehension showing on her face. "Go ahead."  
  
Anxious to set her at ease, he smiled, hiding his own relief under a mask of reassurance. "Physically, you've recovered remarkably well. You'll still need to walk with the help of crutches for a few weeks and take up an intensive rehab routine once the pain in your shoulder and in your hip is gone. And of course, for at least two weeks, lots of rest and daily visits to your residential physician are a must. But the doctors are willing to release you into the care of a trustworthy person. You'll have to follow strict orders - but you'd be able to return to D.C. if you feel up to it. Congratulations, Marine," he added softly.  
  
She cocked her head to the left. "And that 'trustworthy person' would be you, I suppose?"  
  
Harm was feeling a little embarrassed but he tried his best not to let it show. "Exactly. If you'll, for once, submit to my control."  
  
Seeing her hesitate a little, obviously pondering her next words, his stomach tightened. Still, knowing her wishes and needs had to come first, he pushed the feeling away and waited for her reaction.  
  
"Thank you so much, Harm, I appreciate that," she answered carefully but he could hear the 'however' approaching. "But I'm not quite sure what I want yet. Can I give you my answer later?" Her big brown eyes were begging him to understand.  
  
"'Course," he only agreed in a low voice as a flash of acute disappointment shot through him. True, he would have meticulously kept his physical and emotional distance from her. Yet, having her around would have made things a lot easier to bear - and then, there was always the hope that something, whatever, from her old life would flip the switch that was keeping her from her old self yet.  
  
"Anyway, you should think about it," he gently encouraged her. "Because if what your doctors tell me is true, your amnesia was probably caused by the traumatic events you've been through, not by your head injury that luckily turned out superficial. According to the MRI they did two days ago, your brain seems to be okay as far as they can tell. It's a little swollen at the back of your head, but mostly at the top, not down where any vegetative functions would be affected. Dr. Craven, the head neurologist, thinks that the slight swelling might be completely unconnected to your memory loss," he went on, her intense gaze telling him she was following his explanations highly alert. "So, actually, returning to your habitual surroundings might help getting back what lies buried for whatever reason."  
  
Her glance turned a little pained. "Yeah, I know..." she murmured distractedly, looking down on her blanket for a few moments before lifting her eyes to meet his again. "It's so strange: I don't understand my own reactions. On the one hand I long to know every last detail about myself and yet - going back to an apartment that should feel like home to me but at the moment could as well be some hotel suite... I'm scared, Harm," she admitted with a sigh.  
  
"That's okay," he said soothingly, wanting desperately to take her in his arms but refraining from the gesture, knowing it would disconcert her even more. "I'll be there for you. And so will Bud and Harriet, and Admiral Chegwidden. They're all eager to see you again. And then, there's Sergei who could help you remember your Russian..."  
  
"I know Russian?" she asked, eyes wide.  
  
He nodded. "Yes, you do. Try to say something. Maybe that's something that you haven't lost."  
  
He saw her close her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration - and suddenly, the skin on her forehead relaxed.  
  
"Spaseeba," she said, smiling slightly. "Da, ya gavaryu pa ruskij." [Thank you. Yes, I speak Russian.]  
  
Even though this might have no meaning regarding her memories of her former life, his heart jumped a little with joy. Whatever little headway she was making felt like a treasure to him. "That's great," he uttered in sincere joy, patting her shoulder. "Keep it up, and before long we'll be facing off in the courtroom again."  
  
Her smile actually turned a little mischievous as she agreed in Farsi, nodding her head to make him understand the unknown words and catching him completely off guard.  
  
"Whoa..." he made, awed. "Never do things halfway, right, Marine? Well, I guess this answers the question of whether your amnesia is of a physical nature or not." 'Now we only have to find the key to unlock the dungeon you locked yourself in,' he added silently, knowing full well that 'only' was more than just a slight understatement.  
  
"In part, it might be physical after all," she stated, sobering. "Or how would you explain that when I skimmed the UCMJ earlier, I remembered parts of it, but other things were completely new to me." She sighed. "However, considering that I didn't remember anything at all about a concept called 'law' when you first told me I was a lawyer, I guess I am indeed making progress."  
  
She fell silent, gazing into the big nothing, lost in deep thought. Harm couldn't be sure but he was still pretty certain he knew what she was brooding about. Gently squeezing her shoulder, he made her look at him. "Don't worry, Sarah. In time, you'll find your way back home - and not just to your apartment. And as far as I am concerned, I'll do everything in my power to guide you on that road, okay?"  
  
Swallowing, she laid her right hand on the one that was still resting on her left shoulder. "Thank you," she replied, silently fixing his gaze for a long moment. Then she pulled herself up, drew a deep breath and exhaled in a quick, determined way, pulling back her hand. "Okay, question number one..."  
  
"Sarah, hold it for a moment," Harm suddenly interrupted her, glancing at his watch. "I'm not a guest of this noble residence anymore, you know. It's late. I think I should go back to the base. We'll do this tomorrow, okay? I promise."  
  
He started to get up but Mac quickly reached for his hand and pulled hard. "No way are you walking out on me now," she threatened. "As long as they don't drag you out of here, you can as well tell me what I want to know. Please," she added, her voice softening. The desperate look had returned to her eyes.  
  
Defeated, he sat down again and leaned back. "Fire at will, Colonel."  
  
She smiled in relieved gratitude. It took her a long moment to formulate even one question, though. He could tell her mind was overflowing with conflicting thoughts and emotions and she was obviously having a hard time getting them into any rational order. "Okay..." she drawled, "So... when we were investigating my uncle, you figured out I was hiding something from you. How?"  
  
His healing leg was giving him a hard time. He was very tired, physically as well as emotionally. And he was bound by his promise. So his answer reduced to the maximum of concise clarity, not even trying to conceal anything. "I was looking at you all the time." For a brief moment he wondered why it was so easy holding her glance.  
  
He could see his open answer had stunned her a little but she seemed to recognize and appreciate the absolute sincerity. "Why?" she only asked.  
  
"Because I was seeing someone else in you."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"A woman whose murder I'd had to investigate just a few months before."  
  
Seeing her shocked expression, he wondered for a split second if he should really do this to her. And to himself, for that matter. Talking about Diane would lead to talking about feelings. And talking about feelings would lead him to... But as soon as the thought had formed, he defiantly pushed it aside. 'The truth. You promised.'  
  
"Lieutenant Diane Schonke. the love of my life," he added in a low voice.  
  
Choosing to ignore her toneless "Oh, God..." he went on, mindful of keeping his voice gentle and understanding. "This is an entirely different story, so I won't get into it now. It doesn't have anything to do with your life, Sarah. And it's long past. I only mentioned it because it was your uncanny resemblance to Diane that made me forget all the time that I didn't know you. That's why we were so close right from the start - at least as far as I was concerned. For you, it took a little longer to open up, but my state of mind enabled us to understand each other as quickly as we did."  
  
It took him a little aback when he saw her expression cloud somewhat. "So all you did for my uncle - and for me - you did it because of her?"  
  
He shook his head. "No," he replied, gently but firmly. "I did it because it was the right thing to do. Although I wouldn't have done what he did, I still came to admire your uncle for how he followed his principles. And I admired you for how you were willing to give up everything for him."  
  
"Do you still see her when you look at me? Is that why you're staying with me now?"  
  
Her doubts stung and he had to remind himself to be careful while appeasing them. If he acted on impulse only, he was in danger of giving away the one secret he was determined to keep. "You're my best friend on Earth, Sarah." Still, his words carried a lot more emotion than would have been advised. "Leaving you alone was never an option."  
  
"But is it her you're seeing in me?" she insisted.  
  
"No, it's you. It's not always been you," he admitted, "But it's been you for longer than I can remember now." Drawing a deep breath, he decided to take yet another step, wanting to chase even the slightest reminder of uncertainty from her eyes. "Let's leave aside for the moment that I loved Diane. Of course, she was a good friend, too. But you and me, we've been through so much together, Sarah. We've seen each other at our best and at our worst. I didn't keep track of who owes whom his or her life at the moment because we've saved each other more often than one should think possible." He reached out and encircled her fingers in his. "Our friendship goes way beyond anything I've ever known. It survived several relationships on both sides. It's something I just can't go on without. That's why I stay."  
  
Her eyes had widened a notch while listening as he had poured out his heart to her. It was clear that he had made no admission of love, but the light that surrounded them seemed to have warmed. He felt her fingers lace through his, but her action didn't unsettle him in the least. For in her eyes, he read the most wonderful understanding of what exactly he had just told her, without any trace of expecting anything that went beyond it. Their wavelengths seemed perfectly synchronized.  
  
Deep in Harm's heart, the wound stopped to bleed. Although the remaining scar would always remind him of what they had lost, the agonizing fear that Mac might never find her way back was soothed by a consolation that had started to blossom within him: if they would always understand each other the way that had just transpired, the loss was something he'd in time learn to bear.  
  
"Thank you," she answered quietly, her eyes shining with gratitude.  
  
For a moment, neither of them said a word, not wanting to break the magic of the moment, but eventually she drew back her hand, a relaxed smile gracing her features. The mischievous sparkle in her glance made him raise his eyebrows.  
  
"Okay," she said. "Then I'll play 20 questions now, sort of."  
  
"Uh oh..." he mumbled, his mischief fully matching hers.  
  
"Umm, let's see... what was the funniest situation we've ever been in?"  
  
The memory that instantly surfaced made him chuckle. "Seeing you duck in the courtroom when I fired an automatic weapon to prove my point."  
  
"What??" Her incredulous smile was as wide as it could ever be. "Apparently you're plain crazy. So why wouldn't I duck in such a situation?"  
  
Laughing for good now, Harm explained, "You've always made it a point that Marines don't duck. They 'take cover', you know? And the sight of you vanishing under your table was just hilarious."  
  
With a mock frown, she slapped him on the arm. "Just be glad that I'm not in combat shape right now, sailor. Anyway, next question: what was the most embarrassing situation I've ever seen you in?"  
  
He sobered just a little bit, but still his smile prevailed. "I guess that was on the beach in Sydney. I thought you were topless and I didn't dare to look over the magazine you were reading. In fact, I didn't know where to look at all."  
  
"Oh?" she asked, calm amusement playing on her features. "Well, was I? Topless, I mean?"  
  
"I still don't know and you wouldn't tell."  
  
"Why were we in Australia together anyway?" she queried curiously.  
  
As quickly as it had come, his earlier settled feeling vanished and he cursed himself for having brought the topic up in the first place. Yet, it was an essential part of her past. He wouldn't conceal it from her. He just hoped he might not have to go into every heart-wrenching detail at once.  
  
"A former colleague of ours, an Australian Navy officer who'd been at JAG with the officers exchange program, requested that we investigate a case in Sydney involving an American seaman." 'I won't tell you that you came on your own account,' he added in private, unable now to keep the smile on his face. "His name was Mic Brumby. You were involved with him for quite some time but it didn't last."  
  
By now, she had sobered as well and was eyeing him curiously. "One could suspect that that bothered you," she remarked carefully.  
  
"Well, to be honest, I didn't like him," Harm explained, hoping she would accept the reasons he gave her. "He was cocky and dominated you in a way. I tried to respect your choice but I knew he wasn't good for you. Apparently I was right."  
  
"Seems so," she agreed thoughtfully. "Did I tell you why we broke up?"  
  
"Never in so many words," he answered, knowing it was the truth. They still hadn't talked the Brumby issue through in full. Maybe they never would, now.  
  
He winced as she made a dismissive gesture and said, "Never mind that now. As you're still here, I don't think the liaison can have affected our friendship very much." He was grateful that his instinctive reaction seemed to have escaped her. To explain the horrors of being out in the Atlantic for hours, trying to survive the storm and the cold, let alone the pain of losing her, would have exceeded his strength.  
  
"Anymore questions, Colonel?" he asked lightly, eager to change the topic and steer the ship into calm waters.  
  
Mac picked up on his diversionary tactic. "Okay, no more cocky Australians for tonight," she conceded with a benign smile. But just as he was about to heave an exaggerated sigh of relief, she spoke up again. "I do have a few other questions, though."  
  
"Awww, Mac, have mercy," he pleaded, trying to let her hear the mockery but secretly imploring her to take his words literally.  
  
Seeing her smile had vanished completely, he instantly understood that he had made it worse rather than better.  
  
"Sarah," she said quietly, mild reproach ringing in her voice. "Harm, I don't understand. Is it so difficult just to let me be my true self? Does 'Sarah' sound so wrong to you?"  
  
He could never give her the foremost reason why calling her 'Sarah' felt so wrong to him. Sarah was the woman he loved. She was the one he was yearning for but she was out of reach. Mac, on the other hand, was his friend of years. With her, he felt secure. She had no idea how hard she was making things for him.  
  
"No," he sighed, briefly closing his eyes. "Of course not. It's just that getting my friend back seems to bring up old habits. I'm sorry. Okay, what do you want to know?" He tried a smile.  
  
If she was still upset, she didn't let it show. "What was the weirdest thing we ever did together?"  
  
"How many hours do I have to tell you?" he asked, a little lamely.  
  
She made a face. "So many? Oh, boy... okay. What was the weirdest of all?"  
  
He did have a vast choice but he knew at once what his answer would be. "How about stealing a MiG-29 near Moscow, taking fire and ejecting somewhere on the way to Siberia?"  
  
"Goodness!" she gasped. "What on earth did we do that for?"  
  
Once more, Harm hoped she would settle for the condensed version. He was too exhausted to dig up yet another topic that would drain him emotionally. "My father was a naval aviator and was shot down over Vietnam. I eventually found out he was brought to a Russian gulag many years later and I needed to find out what had happened to him. So I went to Russia and you came along, because of the language and to keep my feet on the ground. We needed a ride to Siberia." He grinned a little self-consciously. "Would it be okay if we shelved the rest of the story for another time?"  
  
She sighed. "Well, I'm really curious to hear that one but I suspect that it would probably take us too long tonight. Just one thing: did we find your dad?"  
  
Harm couldn't help swallowing. "Yeah..." he said very low. "That is, we found out where he had lived and how he had died. It was hard - but I found closure. So it was worth it. Thank you again for coming with me."  
  
"You're welcome," she said, simply and amiably as if it had been the most natural thing in the world to do. "I suppose, this is where your brother comes into the picture," she mused, her brow furrowing considerably. Harm only nodded. Taking a decided breath, she tried again to lighten the mood. "So what was the most heroic thing we ever did together?"  
  
He could see she was confused that he didn't counter her humor but remained earnest all the time. "How about saving the Russian president's life in Chechnya?" he offered without even the hint of a smile.  
  
The look in her eyes was slowly turning a little haunted as if even this small selection of what they had been through was overwhelming her. "Qualifies," she admitted in a rather small voice, obviously not daring to ask for any further details. Still, hesitant, she once again addressed him. "Harm - I know it's late and we should both be resting but... I'd like to know one more thing. Maybe we'd pick different situations to answer this one, but when do you, personally, think we've been closest to each other?"  
  
'The admiral's porch,' resounded a voice at the back of his mind but with considerable effort, he banned the picture and all emotions connected to it from his mind. Instead, he let himself be taken four years to the past. "The night you saved me from killing Diane's murderer with my own hands," he said quietly. "And strange as it may seem: out of mistaking you for her for a moment, I think it was just that night that I really started seeing Sarah when I looked at you."  
  
As if she could sense there was more to the story, she had started to tremble slightly. "How?" she whispered, wide-eyed.  
  
'The truth, Rabb.' "I kissed Diane goodbye," he admitted, eyes downcast, "and at the same time, the kiss welcomed you in my life."  
  
The silence that followed weighed heavy on both of them. Finally, knowing he had to leave for the night, Harm again addressed the topic that had been shelved earlier. "So, what do you say? Do I tell them to release you into my care?"  
  
Wearily, she wiped her face with her hands. "Harm, I'd really like to be on my own for a while," she admitted, giving clear signs of a bad conscience at turning down his generous offer. "If I promised to find myself a physician and go there every day... would you cover for me if I went for a little vacation all on my own, just me and a whole truckload of thoughts to be digested?" The look she gave him, a mixture of complete helplessness and fierce determination to come to terms at least with what she had learned until now, effectively stilled the protest he had been about to voice.  
  
He fought a difficult inward struggle, deciding whether to comply with her needs or not. The idea of leaving her by herself when she was yet so unsettled made him furious. Yet, he understood utterly and completely that she was longing for that distance from the bottom of her heart. And suddenly, the perfect solution to this dilemma came to his mind.  
  
"I hate to do this," he began, seeing her nod self-consciously, "But if you promise to follow your doctors' orders and if this is really what you think you need most, then I'll be the last to hold you back. Under one condition, though," he added, raising his hand to stop her as she was apparently about to start thanking him for understanding.  
  
Obviously a little taken aback, she only nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.  
  
What he had in mind was a little audacious but it would set his mind at ease, knowing she would be taken good care of. He only had to make sure she wouldn't find out. "I have friends in the west," he began to lay out his plan to her. "An elderly couple who own a beautiful house with a magnificent ocean view, down in California. I don't see them often now but I know they still take boarding guests from time to time. They're very decent people and you'd have all the necessary solace you could wish for. They would provide you with anything you need - from a good physician to a nice barbecue on the terrace every night. I'm sure they'd love to have you. I'm even sure that if I talked to them, you'd get a special offer. And they'll ask no questions if you tell them not to. What do you say?"  
  
She took a long minute to contemplate his offer - a minute that passed entirely too slow for him. 'Please, say yes,' he implored her, 'I want to be sure you're safe wherever you go.'  
  
Finally, she met his eyes again, a slight, grateful smile playing on her features. "I think I'd like to get to know them."  
  
To be continued... (As always, feedback will be appreciated!) 


	7. Chapter Seven

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Seven Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'  
  
From part six:  
  
He fought a difficult inward struggle, deciding whether to comply with her needs or not. The idea of leaving her by herself when she was yet so unsettled made him furious. Yet, he understood utterly and completely that she was longing for that distance from the bottom of her heart. And suddenly, the perfect solution to this dilemma came to his mind.  
  
"I hate to do this," he began, seeing her nod self-consciously, "But if you promise to follow your doctors' orders and if this is really what you think you need most, then I'll be the last to hold you back. Under one condition, though," he added, raising his hand to stop her as she was apparently about to start thanking him for understanding.  
  
Obviously a little taken aback, she only nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.  
  
What he had in mind was a little audacious but it would set his mind at ease, knowing she would be taken good care of. He only had to make sure she wouldn't find out. "I have friends in the west," he began to lay out his plan to her. "An elderly couple who own a beautiful house with a magnificent ocean view, down in California. I don't see them often now but I know they still take boarding guests from time to time. They're very decent people and you'd have all the necessary solace you could wish for. They would provide you with anything you need - from a good physician to a nice barbecue on the terrace every night. I'm sure they'd love to have you. I'm even sure that if I talked to them, you'd get a special offer. And they'll ask no questions if you tell them not to. What do you say?"  
  
She took a long minute to contemplate his offer - a minute that passed entirely too slow for him. 'Please, say yes,' he implored her, 'I want to be sure you're safe wherever you go.'  
  
Finally, she met his eyes again, a slight, grateful smile playing on her features. "I think I'd like to get to know them."  
  
Part Seven:  
  
Jan. 25th 2317 ZULU Beach behind the Burnett Residence La Jolla, CA  
  
Sarah Mackenzie was tense and afraid. Outwardly, no one would ever have suspected as much. Clad in a long white summer dress with long sleeves, she was resting in an old wooden sun chair, sunglasses and a broad straw hat protecting her from any malevolent UV rays, her whole demeanor as relaxed as could be. From where she was sitting, miles of white sand stretched in either direction and the steady coming and going of the Pacific's waves was a breathtaking sight. As the hours had gone by, their constant roar had turned into a soothing background music, now and then interrupted by a seagull's cry. The whole scenario breathed 'peace'.  
  
Yet, Sarah's mind was in turmoil. For two hours and fourteen minutes, according to her internal clock that she had remembered having a few days ago, she had been sitting on this favorite spot of hers. Just like she had every day before... or so it seemed. However, one thing was different: today, there was no book or case file in her lap. There was a plain green cardboard folder, tied together with a green ribbon.  
  
During the last ten days, Sarah had studiously avoided taking the folder out of the box Harriet had sent. There had been more than enough cases to study and books to peruse. Slowly, she was getting herself acquainted again with what had obviously been her life. When she had an especially good day, Sarah even managed to dig up fleeting images and other crumbs of information that the papers didn't contain. Those tiny pieces of the big puzzle she would turn over and over in her mind and lock them away like she would a treasure. Slowly, very slowly, she was beginning to get an impression of the woman known as Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie.  
  
Yet, neither 'Sarah' nor 'Mac' seemed to be within reach. What little she did remember was always so strictly work-related that she was unable to get any personal information whatsoever out of it. And that was precisely why she dreaded opening the green folder that was now resting on her thighs. She had a distinct feeling that she would find information on either 'Sarah' or 'Mac' in it - but she feared that it might be like reading about just anybody. Some woman called Sarah. Having her personal life documented and yet not feeling connected to it...  
  
Sarah doubted she would be able to stand the pain, should it come to that.  
  
Of course, she had known that the day when she'd have to force herself to take this step would eventually come. Still, until today, she had had more than enough to learn from the twenty-plus cases Harriet had packed for her to read and she had been relieved to label them 'priority'.  
  
Almost all of them were cases she had investigated with or argued against Harm. At first, Sarah had wondered if Lieutenant Sims had expressly picked those files because she wanted to make some point. But after thinking about it, she had come to the conclusion that her profound friendship with Harm was apparently so special that everyone at JAG would know about it and was eager to restore it to them. And what's more, Sarah had soon found that many of their cases had indeed been extraordinary ones that must have affected her personality in some way. So it would only seem natural that Harriet should choose them in order to get her friend re-acquainted with her true self.  
  
Although she still didn't know what being herself must have felt like, Sarah had learned a lot of details about her previous life, as well as about that of her friend and about how working together had tied them to each other. The saying "actions speak louder than words" had been confirmed many times over, and many times had she been astonished by the actions either of them had taken.  
  
Take Russia. Of the first trip, the one Harm had mentioned, she had, of course, found no written reports. That had been a private crusade of Harm's. But if that was the case, her following him must have been her private decision as well. Sarah had dismissed any questions that arose from this conclusion, scheduling them to be asked at some later time - until she had come across an espionage trial she had prosecuted against a commander who was murdered before the findings. Harm had been in Russia at the same time, helping to revise Russian military law and had ended up investigating a Russian colonel in Chechnya. Not only had she eventually found out that both their cases were related - no, she had flown across the Atlantic and had followed him thousands of miles across the country, right into a war zone, with no obvious reason as to why she should have done it.  
  
As Harm had told her, they had ended up saving President Putin's life - and that of Harm's brother Sergei, too. But this wasn't what troubled her most. What was beginning to drive her crazy was the nagging doubt that it required deeper feelings than just friendship to induce anyone into taking such a step. Twice.  
  
Then, there was this remarkable case about a police officer stalking her. It had been Harm who had come up with a plan to stop him. And it had been Harm who had come after her and had saved her when things had threatened to unravel.  
  
She had swallowed heavily when she had come across her own court-martial. To learn that she had been accused of having shot her husband, and that her ex-boyfriend was a superior officer with whom she had been guilty of fraternization... If it hadn't been for Harm's ardent defense, she doubted the outcome would have been as favorable as it had been.  
  
Even more surprised, she had found out a few days later that she herself had cleared Harm of murder charges as well, the year before her own trial. He had escaped from the brig - only to seek shelter with her, of all people, although she hadn't even been working at JAG at the time.  
  
Sarah had read and read and read - about lunatic doctors on submarines beneath the Arctic ice, about Jumbo Jets being kidnapped and directed into North Korean airspace, about Vietnam veterans saving their wives from dying by trusting the vision of a dead military chaplain, about Israeli ministers awaiting a donated heart and receiving that of a Palestinian terrorist. Either Harm or she had come to play the hero's part in many of those scenarios. Reading about herself in a novel, she would have sneered at the author's wild fantasy - as well as about the implausible yearlong ill-fated romance he seemed to have planned out for his two main characters.  
  
Yet, she knew that what she had read was true. And subsequently, almost all questions that might arise from any of those files came down to one single phrase in the end: how on Earth could it be possible that there had never been anything but platonic caring between her and Harmon Rabb, Jr.? Or had there...?  
  
It was with a considerable amount of dread that Sarah had had to acknowledge to herself to what extent she apparently depended on Harm's presence. During those horrible first days after waking from the coma, he had always been there for her, no matter whether he had been physically present or not. He had been her firm rock to lean on. The one constant in a life that was floating in continuous motion. By putting some distance in between them, Sarah had wanted to prove to herself that she could stand on her own. As it turned out, she could - but it hurt far more than she would have imagined. She had no idea if it was out of fear of being left alone to face her situation or if there was something else to the picture, but there was no denying it: she was missing Harm dreadfully.  
  
His smile that had the power to warm her from inside. His voice that had the power to soothe her anxieties when they threatened to overwhelm her. His sense of humor that had the power to help her relax and take one step at a time. His whole wonderful self.  
  
Her best friend on Earth. She still didn't remember knowing him - but she had no doubt that he had always been that to her. And she couldn't help wondering why he hadn't been more. Or had he...?  
  
As the days had passed, this question had become predominant in her mind. While reading the cases and her personnel file, gradually putting together the puzzle of who Sarah Mackenzie was in professional life - how she worked, the way she judged this case or that situation, the way she argued, fought, reacted - Sarah's conviction kept growing persistently that Harmon Rabb's life was tied far more closely to her own than he wanted to admit, for whatever reason. And if that be the case, she needed his story to complete hers. The full, unedited version. But how the devil would she get him to open up to her? Just by telling him, "Hey, by the way, I need every detail of your private life to fill in the blanks of mine." Sure.  
  
After spending entire nights brooding over the dilemma, Sarah had finally arrived at the conclusion that there was only one thing she could attempt to do: be his friend the way he wanted her to. By the time they trusted each other unconditionally again - assuming they really had, in the past - he might be ready to give her what she needed: a friend's outside view of her, right down to the last detail of what made her the person she was in other people's eyes. 'In his eyes,' her heart added.  
  
Staring motionlessly at the blue-green waves, Sarah's thoughts were incessantly circling around her friend. There was no doubt that he cared deeply for her. The latest proof of his attachment was how he had not only respected her wish to pass some time alone, but had even provided her with her current accommodation.  
  
To call it simply 'accommodation' would mean to do her hosts severe injustice. Patricia and Frank Burnett were dear, caring people who outdid themselves providing her with each and everything she might need. Initially, Sarah had wondered a little why people as obviously rich as the Burnetts would have boarding guests in the first place. But she had soon found out why. Mrs. Burnett seemed to love having her around, and not just because it might keep her from falling into the wealthy-housewife routine. As a matter of fact, she seemed overjoyed to have someone to wait upon, to show around her impressive art gallery, to engage in animated conversation about almost everything - from gardening to world politics.  
  
However, what Sarah appreciated most was that she and her husband were indeed very discreet people. Mrs. Burnett had told her that Mr. Rabb had called before her arrival, informing her that Ms. Mackenzie wished to be left alone most of the time. Of course she would see to it that Ms. Mackenzie should find all the necessary time and quiet she was looking for. Still, should she need anything or should she just feel in the mood for some company, Ms. Mackenzie would always be very welcome to seek her out. So, when Sarah had asked for a sun chair to take to the beach, Mr. Burnett himself had shown her his favorite spot and had set up the old, comfortable chair for her, not once attempting to ask why she preferred the sandy solitude to their beautiful terrace.  
  
All in all, Sarah was feeling reassured and very much at ease - except when her thoughts drifted to the mysterious green cardboard folder that might hold the key to her personality. So it was with considerable trepidation that she now drew a deep breath and pulled the knot open. 'God, please, let me feel something. Anything. Don't let this be just another file to me.'  
  
She gave a low cry of amazement at the sheer number of documents, papers and photos the folder held. Right on top lay a personal note, addressed to her.  
  
Ma'am,  
  
I don't mean to intrude but when I dusted your apartment I found this in the drawer of your nightstand. I know you said you didn't want anything personal, but I thought this might contain some essential parts of your life, ma'am. So I took the liberty of sending it along with the rest. I'm not sure, though, what you'll find for I only opened it briefly to put my note to you inside.  
  
We all miss you very much, ma'am. Maybe this is why I'm being so bold as to ignore your wishes. Please, get well soon and don't hold a grudge against...  
  
...Harriet  
  
'No, you're right, Lieutenant,' Sarah silently addressed her far-away friend, sighing. 'I need to do this. Thank you for choosing to be straightforward.'  
  
She began to thumb through the impressive stack of papers, careful not to let them be blown away by the breeze. The first half was all bureaucratic, she noted with relief as well as disappointment. After reading the documents carefully and trying to memorize as much as possible, Sarah now knew her address, the size of her apartment, the rent, how much she spent on telephone, internet and cable expenses, and that her apartment was equipped with a fireplace that seemed to save her quite a lot of heating. Two photos that came with the contract showed the apartment in its bare state. But even like this it was obvious that she was living quite agreeably.  
  
Then, she had learned all about her medical insurance, her social security, the Big Sister Program and her little 'sister' Chloe Madison of whom she had also found a picture attached to the documents. After that, to her surprise, she had found out she drove a Corvette. She would have considered herself more a Jeep person - but then, who exactly was 'herself'?  
  
Eventually, the stack of papers came to an end. Sarah tucked the last document underneath the others and found herself confronted with a large quantity of photos. Most of the people displayed on them she already knew, thanks to the files and based on what Harm had told her. And where she was unsure about whom she was looking at, all she needed to do was turn the picture over and read the comment she had written on the backside.  
  
The variety of occasions present in the stack surprised her a little. Apparently, her colleagues had become kind of a surrogate family to her. She found pictures of the Roberts's wedding, little AJ's christening, Christmas at the office, Christmas at someone's home, a party she couldn't really place (the only remarkable thing being that Bud was wearing an apron when everyone else was wearing jacket and tie) - and time and time again Harm and her together. Hunting for Easter Eggs with little AJ. Running at full speed, apparently trying to beat each other. Dancing - Harm in mess dress, her in a black evening dress with long, elegant gloves. Both in their dress uniforms - hers blue, his white - standing at attention. Both leaning against the railing at some carrier's fantail, dressed in khakis and looking relaxed and at ease.  
  
More than once, a smile lit up Sarah's features as she came across yet another display of a family-like circle of friends. And she was all the more sorry that she felt like she was seeing everything for the first time ever. No matter how hard she tried to remember - this didn't feel like her life. But at least she didn't look at herself anymore as if she were looking at some stranger. Seeing her face in the mirror each day had led her to accept that the tall handsome woman in the pictures was indeed herself.  
  
Putting away one last picture that showed Harm with his then new godson on his arms, his smile as gorgeous as she had ever seen it, Sarah had reached the last object the green folder contained: a big brown envelope. She tried to ignore the pain that feeling so unconnected to what she had found was causing her. At least she knew for sure now that she had quite a few dear friends - friends she could even call her family. If she didn't have herself, she could at least count on their compassionate affection. Sarah suspected that Mac wouldn't have liked being comforted too much, but right now, she admitted to herself that she was grateful for it.  
  
With a decided sigh, she opened the envelope. Until now, the folder hadn't revealed any skeletons in her closet. So this last one shouldn't be too hard.  
  
She was astonished to see it contained more photos - all of her and a man she didn't know. From a photo that showed him in dress whites, she deduced he was a naval officer as well - and when she saw that these dress whites were different from those she had seen on Harm, or the admiral, or Bud previously, she remembered what Harm had told her about that Australian she had apparently been seeing for some time. Mic Brumby. This had to be him.  
  
He looked nice, she conceded, but where Harm's self-confidence was becoming, his seemed just a little arrogant. Well, it hadn't lasted, Harm had told her. As she was thumbing through the stack of pictures of her and Brumby, Sarah thought she knew why. However, her breath caught in her throat when on one picture, she once again spotted Bud in that strange apron. And taking a closer look, she understood that she and Brumby were... cutting a cake together! A cake with an American and an Australian flag. Biting her trembling lower lip, Sarah skimmed the following pictures for one that would allow her a glimpse at her left hand.  
  
Good God.  
  
She had been engaged to that man! Once again, fury began to well up inside her. Again Harm had concealed decisive facts from her. 'Why?' she asked herself, feeling a sharp pang of disappointment. After a moment, though, her conscience scolded her sharply. 'Give that poor man the benefit of a doubt. Maybe you were hurting a lot about the broken relationship and he wanted to spare you from reliving that pain.' Sarah took a deep breath to settle herself, feeling her fury dissipate. Yes, this had to be it. Anyway, she would ask him about it when she'd next see him. An engagement wasn't something you'd take as a given and didn't ask questions about.  
  
Turning her attention back to what she was holding in her hands, Sarah became aware that there was a small envelope right underneath the pictures. Upon closer examination, it became evident that it was a letter that had twice traveled around the world, taking a few wide detours on the Australian continent before being returned to its sender in Washington: herself. 'Recipient's current address unknown,' she read. Curious, she opened it. The letter dated back three months. Feeling her apprehension grow and not really knowing why, Sarah began to read.  
  
Dear Mic,  
  
half a year has passed since your departure. I am sorry I haven't been able to make up my mind and write any earlier. But I just couldn't. I was hurting and I was angry with you. Trying to clear the air in that state of mind would have come to nothing.  
  
I have accepted your decision and I have come to believe you made the right choice. It hurt a lot arriving at this conclusion but now I have made my peace with it and am ready to move on. So, theoretically, we could just leave it at that and let the whole matter rest. Yet, I feel I owe you an explanation - as far as I can explain it to myself - as to why 'we' didn't work. Only now that I have returned from a four-months TDY I that served in Indonesia, can I approach this subject without rancor or regret.  
  
You asked me a question when you were leaving. You wanted to know if I was begging you to stay because I wanted you in my life or just because I was afraid of being left alone. I couldn't admit it back then, not even to myself. But you were right. I was indeed afraid, dreadfully afraid of being alone again. Somehow I think I knew even then. Yet, I tried to make myself believe it were something else.  
  
I am ashamed of how I treated you, Mic. And, please, believe me when I say that in a way, I really did love you. You are a good man, and you deserve someone who really loves you for who you are - not for the things you offer that she might have been longing for.  
  
I know you believe there is something between Harm and me. I'll admit that my reaction to him being lost at sea would probably lead anyone to suspect there was. A woman who is about to pledge her life to one man the next day isn't supposed to cry and be so utterly distraught thinking about another. And naturally, the fact that you called him before your departure because you suspected I would be with him, and that you actually found me there, didn't help reverse the picture you had gotten of the situation.  
  
Maybe at times, even Harm and I ourselves don't quite know where we stand with each other, but I can tell you that we didn't fall into each other's arms the moment you were gone. Hard as it may be for anyone to believe: Harm and I are and always were nothing more than friends, whereas I loved and was ready to marry you. Still, I have never had a friend that was closer or dearer to me than Harm is. Maybe, from this point of view, my reaction to his plane crash is understandable.  
  
As I said, the situation between Harm and me is just the same as always now. So, if I tell you that I think the choice you made to cancel the wedding was the right one, please don't think that's because I am now hoping to get together with Harm instead. This is not so.  
  
True, Harm's insisting on taking the last flight back from the carrier, knowing he might be flying into bad weather, just because he wanted to be there for the wedding, might seem like an admission of feelings other than friendship that he just never dared to voice. But as you can see, it wasn't that at all. Still, the dreadful hours praying that the search teams would find him did make things clearer to me. Not immediately, but in the long run. At that moment, my feelings for him ran deeper than they did for you - and that simply isn't a ground one should base a lifelong commitment on. I am glad we didn't. The events of that night saved me from settling for something that would have made neither me nor you happy in the end. There was no other man involved - there just wasn't enough involvement with the man who wanted me.  
  
I only hope that someday you will meet the woman who will be able to give you all the love you would have wished I had for you.  
  
Be safe, Mic. As a friend, I will still be there for you, should you ever need me.  
  
Always, Sarah  
  
It was nearly half an hour after she had finished reading the letter for the third time that Sarah Mackenzie could make up her mind, reach for her crutches and return to the house. Back in her room, she immediately lay down, hoping a little sleep would set her mind at ease and restore her emotional strength.  
  
She would need all of it, digesting what she had just learned.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	8. Chapter Eight

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Eight Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part seven:  
  
True, Harm's insisting on taking the last flight back from the carrier, knowing he might be flying into bad weather, just because he wanted to be there for the wedding, might seem like an admission of feelings other than friendship that he just never dared to voice. But as you can see, it wasn't that at all. Still, the dreadful hours praying that the search teams would find him did make things clearer to me. Not immediately, but in the long run. At that moment, my feelings for him ran deeper than they did for you - and that simply isn't a ground one should base a lifelong commitment on. I am glad we didn't. The events of that night saved me from settling for something that would have made neither me nor you happy in the end. There was no other man involved - there just wasn't enough involvement with the man who wanted me.  
  
I only hope that someday you will meet the woman who will be able to give you all the love you would have wished I had for you.  
  
Be safe, Mic. As a friend, I will still be there for you, should you ever need me.  
  
Always, Sarah  
  
It was nearly half an hour after she had finished reading the letter for the third time that Sarah Mackenzie could make up her mind, reach for her crutches and return to the house. Back in her room, she immediately lay down, hoping a little sleep would set her mind at ease and restore her emotional strength.  
  
She would need all of it, digesting what she had just learned.  
  
Part Eight:  
  
Jan. 26th 1828 ZULU Burnett Residence La Jolla, California  
  
Trish Burnett asked herself yet again if she was doing the right thing. She had been battling her conscience for the better part of the last ten days. Eventually she had come to the conclusion that this was something she just had to do.  
  
She knew well that she had promised her son not to reveal her identity and her connection with him. She had even ridded her house of every picture or object that might have tipped her guest off. But seeing how much the poor woman was suffering from the situation and how she was fighting her anxieties all by herself, had long since deprived Trish of a good night's sleep.  
  
Although he had never admitted to anything, Trish knew Harm loved Sarah Mackenzie and that he was at the verge of breaking from the burden he was shouldering trying to help her. His voice, when he had first called her, had been so unlike his normal self Trish had been shocked. Yet, she had been willing to respect his wish to stay anonymous. Mac knew Trish had a son, but this was it.  
  
It had been knowing Mac herself that had made Trish reconsider her decision. She had always been very curious to get a glimpse at the woman that held her commitment-shy son's heart captive like she did. Harm had warned her not to get a wrong impression of her, claiming Mac was far from her true self right now. And yet, Trish was sensitive enough to distinguish between Mac's anxiety and the strong personality that lay beneath it.  
  
Apart from being an exceptionally beautiful woman, Mac was an impressive person to be acquainted with. Trish was thrilled to see to whom Harm had devoted his heart. And she had soon been able to read between the lines that - be it old or recent - a flame akin to that in Harm's soul was burning within Mac, too. Trish felt she was unable to sit by and just watch as these two were slowly drowning in despair, about the situation as well as about being apart from each other.  
  
Silently vowing to herself that she wouldn't chicken out and ignoring her conscience that reminded her of her promise to Harm, Trish now carefully neared the figure that was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, terry-robe-clad shoulders slumped, cheeks very pale, listlessly stirring the cocoa in the oversized cup in front of her. Trish had witnessed a lot of grief within the young woman, but today, Mac looked truly done. Something seemed to add to her already troubled state of mind, and Trish swore she'd ease that haunted look in those beautiful eyes of hers.  
  
As gently as possible, she placed her hand on Mac's shoulder. Yet, the younger woman jumped and spilled a little of the warm, brown liquid from her cup.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Burnett," she immediately apologized, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. A reaction as strong as this only reaffirmed Trish's suspicion that something was indeed very, very wrong.  
  
"Never mind, dear," she said with a soothing smile, reaching for a Kleenex and wiping the cocoa away with a swift brush. Then, she settled down on the stool beside her guest, examining her more closely. The young woman had dark circles under her eyes and was indeed frighteningly pale. "Are you unwell this morning?" Trish asked, concerned.  
  
A feeble smile lit up Mac's face. "Just lack of sleep, nothing serious."  
  
"Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?" Trish inquired, knowing full well this wasn't the cause of her insomnia but she wanted to get her to talk.  
  
"No, thank you, ma'am," Mac answered quickly, apparently eager to set her hostess at ease. "I'm just dealing with a few problems. I guess worrying too much kept me from sleeping last night. But I was planning on returning to bed after I had finished this cup. Cocoa often works wonders."  
  
Trish smiled. "Yes, it does. However..." She hesitated but then thought 'To hell with it!' and took the plunge. "Sometimes, talking about what's troubling you is even more effective. So if you need someone to just listen - I'm here." She fixed her gaze to Mac's, hoping she would be able to see in her eyes just how much she wanted her to open up.  
  
After a few seconds of pondering the issue in her heart, Mac - to Trish's infinite relief and joy - took the offered hand. "Mine is a very complicated case," she began in a low voice. "I don't know if you'll really..."  
  
"Just try me," Trish cut in gently.  
  
Mac smiled a little. "Okay... thank you." She sighed, looking into her cup again. When she spoke, her voice was very low. "I don't quite know where to start so if I mix things up too much, just ask." Trish only nodded. Mac went on, "Well, to make a long story short, it's not an accident I'm recovering from. In case Commander Rabb didn't tell you: I'm a fellow officer of his and we both got shot while rescuing his brother, my adopted sister and our godson from their kidnappers."  
  
Trish felt her heart stop beating. "Ha..." she cleared her throat, to cover up her slip just as well as because her voice had suddenly failed its service. "Commander Rabb was hurt, too? He never told me what exactly had happened. Good God, I might have come close to..." Stopping herself just in time, Trish drew a shaky breath and tried to look far more at ease than she felt. She wasn't supposed to appear this shaken by some news about a casual acquaintance.  
  
Yet, the moment she met Mac's eyes, Trish knew she had crossed the line. The young woman had tensed and fear was shining in her eyes - fear of other people being dishonest with her, as Trish could easily read on her features.  
  
With obvious strain, Mac inquired quietly, "You know about my situation, don't you? Commander Rabb told you. And you're not just some friend. Am I right?"  
  
Sighing deeply, Trish didn't resist the urge anymore to make physical contact. Surprising her conversation partner, she placed her hand on Mac's and squeezed it tenderly. "Please, don't be angry with my son, darling. All he ever thinks about is keeping you safe, physically and emotionally. He was so afraid to let you fight this on your own. So he enlisted my help, making me promise I wouldn't say a thing. I know Harm can be stubborn and over-protective, but if you knew just how much he depends on you as his friend, you'd understand why he does what he does. Please," Trish begged again, "Don't hold his disposition against him."  
  
Mac just stared at her, aghast, never trying to free her hand. "So you're..."  
  
"Former Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Sr., yes," Trish finished her sentence with an apologetic smile. "But, please, call me Trish, will you?"  
  
Swallowing, Mac nodded. "Call me Sarah," she answered, her voice uneven. "Seems your son knows me very well indeed," she continued, staring into her cup again as if she could find some answers in her private cocoa oracle. "He knew I'd never have come here had I known who you are."  
  
Trish felt a slight sting but chose to ignore it, knowing the statement hadn't been directed against her. Deciding the issue had been pushed over the edge anyway, she asked, "I'm glad you did, though. Has your time here helped to clear anything for you yet?"  
  
Sighing, Mac finally took a sip from her cup and closed her eyes as she let the soothing drink run down her gullet. When she looked at Trish again, the older woman could see her gaze was clearer and more relaxed. Mac had obviously made her peace with the situation.  
  
"Yeah, actually I think I made quite a bit of headway," she explained. "I learned a lot of things about my career and about quite a few cases I worked on. I've started reacquainting myself with the law and I find I remember more than I thought I would." Her voice turned a little defeated when she went on. "It's just my private life that I can't seem to get a grip on. Sarah, the Colonel, is present. Sarah, the woman, isn't. And the few things I did find out are confusing the hell out of me..." She let her voice trail off.  
  
"For instance?" Trish probed gently. She had a distinct feeling she was getting close to the bottom of her guest's current state of mind.  
  
As if to steady herself, Mac drew a deep breath. Her gaze had turned frightened again. "Well, I guess you might know some about it as the affair affected Harm big time," she began, clearly uneasy. "You know where Harm was going when he went down at sea last May, right?"  
  
Trish closed her eyes and waited for the stab of pain to dissipate. She remembered clearly getting the news of his downed plane, just like she had received them 32 years prior to that day... "Your wedding," she replied in a low voice when she felt she could breathe again. "Do you remember anything of that night?"  
  
Mac shook her head. "No, I don't" she murmured, pain ringing in her words, "Not a single thing. But I wish I did. Then maybe this letter would start making some sense."  
  
Only now did Trish become aware of the sheet of paper lying on Mac's lap. With a questioning glance, she tentatively reached for it and Mac nodded, allowing her to take it. With considerable trepidation, Trish began to read, but the feeling soon turned into relaxation and understanding as the pieces suddenly began to fall into place in her mind.  
  
When she had finished, she handed the worn paper back to Mac. "I can see how this must make you uneasy," she commented quietly, supplying the opening she hoped Mac would use to inquire after anything she might want to know.  
  
"Trish, can I ask you something?" Mac promptly came forth.  
  
"I don't know if I'll be able to answer but sure, go ahead," Trish encouraged her.  
  
Mac took another sip of her cocoa. "There's one thing that really doesn't make any sense at all," she began and with a smile, Trish spoke up.  
  
"Your relationship with my son."  
  
Actually blushing slightly, it was Mac's turn to smile. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Honey, it's the one thing I've been trying to figure out ever since he mentioned you for the first time," Trish told her, sobering a little. "If you feel that this... whatever it is... might be the key to some essential parts of your personal history, I'd say your assumption is absolutely right. I don't have many details, but I do know my son pretty well - he's an emotional carbon copy of his father. So, what little I can tell you is this:  
  
"Harm cares for you in a way I've seldom seen him care about anyone. It's obvious that the same goes for you. The two of you seem to have formed a bond so unique that you simply can't live without it. You'd do anything not to lose each other. Including consenting to see the other marry someone else, holding his or her personal happiness dearer than your own."  
  
"And yet, Harm told me we were never in love..." Mac mused tonelessly, obviously stunned beyond recognition.  
  
Knowing she was about to go farther than might be healthy, Trish felt she couldn't resist the urge to tell what she felt was nothing but the honest- to-God truth. "No, I'm sure those weren't his words," she contradicted quietly, watching the other woman's reaction closely. "I know they weren't because the answer he supplies whenever I touch the topic is very similar to what you said, but not quite the same. Still, the words never change. Whenever I ask him, 'Harm, are you and Mac in love with each other?' he's sure to answer, 'We were never lovers, if that's what you're asking,' and then he'll consider the matter as closed."  
  
The little color that had previously returned to Mac's face had drained from it again. "That's just what he said," she whispered. Then, squaring her shoulders, she steadied her voice and asked, "Trish, was Harm in love with me before... this?"  
  
With a sad smile, Trish lifted her shoulders and let them drop again, sighing. "Darling, I don't know for sure. He isn't exactly... forthcoming with information about his feelings. As far as I know, that character trait has caused the two of you problems more often than any normal friendship would have survived. But if you ask me, as his mother, I can only say yes, my son loved you from the bottom of his heart. And still does."  
  
To her astonishment, Trish saw tears well up in Mac's eyes, but before she could ask for the reason, Mac explained of her own free will. "Right from the start of this ordeal, when Harm was there for me all the time, I knew I was in danger of falling for him," she said, her voice barely audible. "I tried not to, because I was afraid any additional emotional stress would throw me off track in full. But I couldn't help it..." She swallowed. "I'm in love with your son, Trish," she admitted. "And when I came across that letter it appeared to me as obvious as anything that there must have been something between the two of us. But his whole demeanor makes it very clear now that he doesn't consider me the woman he may once have loved."  
  
Mac looked so helpless that Trish felt like crying herself but she gulped it down, waiting for Mac to elaborate. She did, her voice lower still. "Looking back, I think I even noticed it during our very first conversation after I came to. I couldn't place the feeling then but... It was like he laid something to rest. Like he tore that other woman from his heart, knowing I wasn't her anymore." A lone tear escaped her eye and made its way down her cheek. Yet, she apparently wanted to keep the upper hand about her feelings. "I know he's still my friend and believe me, I'll be forever grateful for that. But... to think that there might have been so much more... and now there never will..."  
  
Physical and emotional exhaustion were taking their toll on her composure and finally, the already feeble façade broke down completely. All Trish could do was pull Mac into a firm embrace and hold her tight as all her built-up rage and grief culminated and gave way to bitter tears, breaking through with an irresistible force. Pressing her lips shut to keep her own emotions at bay, Trish allowed Mac to cry herself out to the verge of collapsing.  
  
'Dear God, let my children find their way back to each other,' Trish prayed fervently, knowing that right now, chances were feeble at best that her wish be granted.  
  
Jan. 29th 2357 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona  
  
With a smile that he knew was a little too confident, Harm pulled the rented SUV to a halt, jumped out and rounded the car to help Mac get out with her crutches. She didn't need them all the time anymore but he had insisted she bring them because the ground was uneven around here. And to have something that might convey some security. He felt she needed every last bit of it.  
  
Three days ago, his mother had called him and had told him that Mac had found out about where he had placed her for her little vacation. He had dreaded meeting her because he had feared she would be furious and let him feel it. But to his surprise, his mother had told him that Mac wasn't furious at all but instead begged him to meet them and take her back to where the whole horrible affair had started. Relieved but still afraid, he had caught the first flight out of D.C.  
  
Indeed - Mac had appeared genuinely glad to see him. Yet, there was something to her appearance that left him unsettled. She seemed more fragile and would often look at him with wide, sad eyes when she thought he wouldn't notice. Her attitude towards him kept changing back and forth between happy that he was with her and sadly resigning to her fate, apparently considering it final. Right now, calling her 'Sarah' didn't seem so very unusual anymore - true, she was still strong, but at the same time more female than he'd ever seen her. And the way she seemed to unconsciously seek his closeness made it harder every day to keep his emotional distance.  
  
It was almost as if she were hoping to... but no. She had made it clear she wanted to stay focused on fighting her amnesia - without being sidetracked by additional emotional strain. Although it was hard, he agreed wholeheartedly. After all - wasn't this exactly what he was trying to achieve by drawing back? To really give her the chance to rediscover herself. The quicker she got to that point, the better - and the moment she would, he'd be the first to confess anything and everything that was on his mind.  
  
Besides, Harm didn't trust himself that, if he let her come close as long as she was still trying to redefine her character, he'd always look out for traces of 'Mac' in 'Sarah' - and she was sure to notice. Wouldn't the eternal frustration of thinking she wasn't whom he wanted her to be prove lethal to their love in the end?  
  
"So this is where it happened?" Mac shook him from his reverie. She was leaning on her crutches, letting her eyes slowly sweep across the big open space where she'd been shot.  
  
"Yeah," he answered, just a little hoarse as the memories she was searching for invaded his own head instead. He motioned for her to follow him and hoping his feelings wouldn't overwhelm him, he pointed out the exact spot she had been lying in.  
  
Mac carefully got down on her knees and then lay down, as if she were trying to let the perspective help her remember. However, after a few minutes of intense concentration, she reached out for him to help her up again.  
  
He didn't even need to ask if she remembered. When he met her eyes, the defeat showing in them threatened to choke him. He gently brushed a little dust off her blue dress without saying anything. Then, he wordlessly showed her the cave they had found Sergei, Chloe and AJ in.  
  
It was then that the first tears rose to her eyes. "I don't even remember ever coming here... and you said it was one of my uncle's favorite spots..."  
  
"Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry," he breathed, her grief tearing him apart. Yet, he refrained from taking her into his arms as he was yearning to. He was sure she wouldn't have appreciated if he picked up on her momentary weakness.  
  
Silent, they made their way back to the SUV and headed for a nearby motel. Never letting show that he had noticed, Harm saw and heard all too well that Mac was crying silently during the whole ride. Crying over yet another shattered hope to find a thread that would lead her back to herself. But if even returning to the roots of evil didn't help, what on Earth would? Harm gripped the wheel tighter in suppressed rage.  
  
Once arrived at the quiet little motel, Harm walked her up to her door, wanting to make sure she was well settled. But just as he was about to bid her goodnight, turn away and leave for his own room, she startled him by pulling him into a tight hug and burying her face on his chest, still sobbing a little from time to time.  
  
Her sudden physical closeness threatened to unravel his resolve to stay away. Hesitantly, but unable to hold himself back, he put his arms around her and caressed her back, burying his nose in her hair.  
  
Without her sense of timing, Harm had no idea just how long they had stood there, never uttering a syllable, just holding on to each other as they would to dear life. Eventually however, Mac pulled back slightly.  
  
Harm let his arms drop. "You okay?" he asked, carefully studying her features.  
  
She swallowed. "I guess."  
  
He noticed she still had her arms around his neck and didn't give any indication of wanting to take them away. Unsure what he should do, and silently savoring this small reminder of his happiest hour, four weeks ago, when he'd been just as close to her, he stayed where he was, motionless.  
  
Seconds turned into minutes and he felt himself tense under the scrutiny of her huge, dark eyes. So familiar and yet so far away from all that had ever been between them. Unable to stand the situation any longer, he cleared his throat. "Uh, I guess I should..."  
  
"Stay," she cut in, her voice a begging whisper.  
  
Aghast, he was still desperately searching for the right answer when he suddenly became aware of just how close she had moved to him. Cold fear and burning desire shot through his veins at the same time, threatening to paralyze him. If he didn't react quickly, his would be a hopeless case.  
  
"Mac..." he croaked out very low, his eyes glued to hers, feeling he was losing himself in that incredible humid brown warmth.  
  
A low moan escaped his throat when she silenced him effectively by fully closing the distance. His knees threatened to buckle when he felt the fullness of her velvety lips on his, grazing, probing, teasing...  
  
Time froze as a myriad of thoughts and emotions flooded his mind. His Sarah was seeking closeness. Was offering him the very physical contact he'd been yearning for ever since their oh so short hour of mutual happiness. Yet, this wasn't her. What if he gave in and she turned out a different person altogether? The changes the last weeks had caused in her were considerable already. Would it really be her he committed to - or would it be the memory of the second woman he had lost forever?  
  
This was about Mac - and yet it was Diane all over again. Only now did he remember just how heart-wrenching and painful losing her had been. Had he lost Mac just as he had lost her? Or would he lose Sarah eventually if she broke under the emotional baggage he was carrying along?  
  
All these thoughts had taken no more than a split second to make themselves known in his conscious. However, their impact was nothing compared to the sheer force with which the feel of her lips on his was pulling him away from everything he had sworn he'd cling to.  
  
Before he even had the time to notice what he was doing, his arms went around her body, frantically pulling her close as his lips started to mimic her actions. He was reveling in the achingly beautiful awareness that finally, finally, she was where she belonged: close to him. And he was yearning to feel her as close as they could possibly get to each other.  
  
It would have been so easy.  
  
It would have been so wrong.  
  
As quickly as it had started, the kiss was broken, and he hurriedly stepped back, as if the distance he put between them might keep his emotions at bay.  
  
"Harm," she whispered, shaken, her eyes wide and terrified.  
  
Swallowing heavily and resisting the urge to scream, he only shook his head, slowly, sadly.  
  
"Why?" she asked, her voice threatening to break.  
  
"You know the reason," he choked out, turning around and escaping to the solitude of his room before he could destroy their last hopes of ever regaining what they'd once so briefly shared.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - highly appreciated!) 


	9. Chapter Nine

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Nine Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part eight:  
  
Before he even had the time to notice what he was doing, his arms went around her body, frantically pulling her close as his lips started to mimic her actions. He was reveling in the achingly beautiful awareness that finally, finally, she was where she belonged: close to him. And he was yearning to feel her as close as they could possibly get to each other.  
  
It would have been so easy.  
  
It would have been so wrong.  
  
As quickly as it had started, the kiss was broken, and he hurriedly stepped back, as if the distance he put between them might keep his emotions at bay.  
  
"Harm," she whispered, shaken, her eyes wide and terrified.  
  
Swallowing heavily and resisting the urge to scream, he only shook his head, slowly, sadly.  
  
"Why?" she asked, her voice threatening to break.  
  
"You know the reason," he choked out, turning around and escaping to the solitude of his room before he could destroy their last hopes of ever regaining what they'd once so briefly shared.  
  
Part Nine:  
  
Feb. 13th 1728 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
Sarah felt she liked green. It suited her well. But still, this uniform felt unfamiliar. It was as if she were wearing some sort of costume. Although she could tell that to the people around here, the sight of her clad in green obviously was a familiar one that they seemed to welcome heartily, Sarah felt out of place. She would never have come if she hadn't known this was something she had to get over with if she wanted to keep the door to her former life open in the long run.  
  
Luckily military protocol seemed to be something that came naturally to her. When she had tried to remember last night how one was supposed to behave in a military institution, she had all but panicked because she hadn't had a clue. Shaking, she had called Harm, and he'd once again been as good as gold. He'd come over and had rehearsed with her until at some point, the perfect execution of an about-face had come back to her - and with it the instinctive knowledge of whom to salute and whom to expect a greeting from. She had still been terribly afraid of accompanying her friend to headquarters this morning but at least she was quite sure that if people didn't ask too many questions, she would be able to conceal that she wasn't really Colonel Mackenzie - that she was just Sarah. And if everything went well, this visit would be the only one required for an indefinite time, maybe forever.  
  
After having met with quite a few friendly faces (the Roberts' whom she had already gotten to know quite well during the last two weeks since she was 'home' to Washington, the African-American commander she recognized as Sturgis Turner, the admiral's yeoman, Petty Officer Tiner...) Sarah had been admitted to Admiral Chegwidden's office to be given her final orders. This was to be the very last thing she'd ever do in this office, she had sworn to herself. Even if she somehow found her way back to being an officer, she doubted she would have liked to work at JAG again. All the history of her many years of work here seemed to loom around every corner, waiting to jump at her. If the military was still her life, she would be serving somewhere else. Starting afresh was what this was all about.  
  
Starting afresh and keeping her distance from Harm.  
  
At first, after her weak moment that night in Arizona, Harm had seemed almost frightened whenever they were together. He had studiously avoided ever making eye contact - if he could - and still answered even more guardedly than before whenever she asked him something personal. A gap seemed to have opened between them that night and for quite some time Sarah had beaten herself up about it, knowing her hurting was self-inflicted. Yet, eventually she had noted that despite the awkward moment standing between them, things hadn't really changed. Harm was still her friend, as reliable and loyal as ever. So if she'd just accept that whatever future they might have had was no more, she would in time be able to close this chapter and let it rest in peace.  
  
Having Harm as a friend was something she learned to appreciate more and more each day. Sarah had gotten used to calling him whenever she felt like talking to someone. After a certain initial strain he had loosened up when talking with her, and the memory of Arizona seemed to fade into the background. They had taken up a habit of seeing each other every night. Harm would cook something for them (Sarah wondered why he always apologized - she thought that healthy cuisine of his was too good to be true), and then he'd tell her about his day, the cases he had worked on, the interviews he had conducted, the people he had met. She would fill him in on what she had studied and how her rehab was going on. After that, they'd just talk about whatever came to mind. Sarah was quite aware that deep inside, she still cherished certain hopes that one day they might move beyond the invisible boundary separating them, but keeping thoughts of the kind locked deep inside was hurting less from day to day.  
  
A week ago, Harm had given her the details of Chegwidden's offer to accept going into reserves as a drawback position for the time being. Thinking it through, she had agreed that it might be her best option. She had done a quick mental check of her financial situation and after finding it modest but secure, she had written the letter. Harm had delivered it the day after.  
  
Stepping into her CO's mahogany-furnished office this morning had been intimidating at first, but that impression had soon lessened. From how Chegwidden had looked at her all the time, Sarah had easily deduced that he was hurting about having to release her. Yet, his benevolent smile when he had ignored protocol and hugged her briefly before dismissing her had reassured her that he was obviously still convinced that she was doing the right thing. His low, "Take care, Sarah, and make sure you come back someday," had told her just how close they'd apparently been.  
  
Clearing out her office hadn't taken up much time - Harriet had already stored her personal things in boxes that Sarah only needed to carry down to her car. She could have left quickly - and yet, when there was nothing left to do but turn her back at the bullpen and walk away, she had found it strangely difficult to do so. Once again, out of nowhere, a fleeting image had crossed her mind: Harm, a cardboard box in his arms, was standing in the very spot she was rooted in - only that she herself was observing the scene from inside the bullpen this time. He was looking back and their eyes met.  
  
The look of sad finality in his eyes had made her gasp and she had done her best to chase the images from her mind. She would deal with them later.  
  
Leaving for good was hard, so now Sarah was sitting in the back row of the main courtroom, following the case that was being tried and trying to imagine herself in Turner's position, facing off against Harm's prosecution. She had to admit that she was impressed and she conceded that she might actually like having a profession of the kind.  
  
So maybe not JAG headquarters, but military law somewhere else, in the future.  
  
Harm was just grilling one of Turner's witnesses and to her surprise, Sarah found herself taking an interest like she would in a football match. She followed Turner's every reaction to Harm's every attack and pride welled up inside her. Her friend was being no less than brilliant. Adrenaline shot up high in Sarah's body and suddenly, she remembered the thrill she had felt so often, standing in front of this very bench, trying to draw in the judge as well as the jury.  
  
Now it was Turner's turn again. Sarah felt this had to be the crucial point of the morning. If Turner was able to disarm Harm's questioning now, he would win. If not. Sarah fixed her eyes on Harm again, as if to let him feel her mental support. 'Go, flyboy, this one's guilty as hell.'  
  
Turner cautiously spoke up. "Petty Officer, you said Chief Wilkes was running a fever that evening. Wouldn't that have clouded his judgement when it came."  
  
'Objection! Calls for speculation,' a voice cried in Sarah's head.  
  
"Objection, your Honor, calls for speculation," Harm cut in sharply. Sarah's eyebrows went up a notch at the synchrony of their reactions.  
  
"Sustained," stated Judge Blakely and Sarah involuntarily made a fist of triumph.  
  
Turner seemed unperturbed. "I'll rephrase: the virus might have affected Chief Wilkes's performance in general, isn't that so, Petty Officer? You knew the flight deck was slippery because the temperature had dropped below 30 degrees, right? The headlights of the incoming Tomcat were blinding you. So..."  
  
'Objection! Defense is answering for the witness!'  
  
"Objection, defense is answering for the witness," Harm remarked calmly, making Sarah wonder if she had said aloud what had been on her mind.  
  
"Sustained," Blakely conceded, giving Turner an intense look. "Commander, please, ask a question."  
  
"I'm sorry, your Honor," Turner apologized. Then he pointedly looked at the witness. "So, Petty Officer, did you or did you not throw caution in the wind in an irresponsible manner when you ordered the chief to."  
  
'Objection! Defense harrassing the witness!'  
  
"Objection, defense is harrassing the witness." Harm's words resounded in the room at the precise moment Sarah heard them in her brain. Starting to feel a little nervous about their thinking so alike, Sarah silently rose and left the courtroom. True, an experienced lawyer might probably have acted the same way Harm had, but using the very same words at exactly the same time, three times in a row. This was starting to get mental. Getting out of here might be a good idea.  
  
At least, the hurt of turning her back at JAG had been lessened considerably by the disconcerting proceedings, Sarah thought, relieved, the moment she ignited the engine of her 'vette and headed home.  
  
Colonel Mackenzie was no more.  
  
Feb. 13th 2332 ZULU Mac's apartment Georgetown, D.C.  
  
Sarah was staring from a hilltop down at a yellow biplane that was parked on the clearing below. Her leg was hurting madly and she was very cold. From behind she could hear the wild barking of the hunting dogs approaching mercilessly.  
  
.as the ringing of her phone made her sit up on the couch with a start. She let out a relieved sigh. This dream had been a particularly vivid one and she was grateful for the break.  
  
Reaching over, she grabbed the receiver and lay back again. "Mackenzie."  
  
["Hello, Colonel, I hope I don't disturb you?"] a young, agreeable voice with a slight accent came over the line. Sarah recognized it immediately.  
  
"Not at all, Sergei. I was just dozing a little but I need to get up anyway. But it's not 'Colonel' anymore."  
  
["Oh, I'm sorry,"] Sergei apologized. ["Of course. Harm told me you received your final orders today. How are you feeling?"]  
  
Sarah sighed. "I'm not quite sure, but I think it was for the best. Anyway, what can I do for you?"  
  
["Nothing. Harm just called me from the office and asked me to make sure you were well. He was a little worried earlier when he found out you had left without letting him know."] In Sergei's voice, too, was ringing some concern.  
  
"I'm okay, really," Sarah reassured him, smiling to herself about being watched by two protective Rabb specimen. "When you call your brother, please tell him that we're still on for tonight, 2000, my place, will you? And if he asks why I left. uhm. just tell him that being able to read his mind isn't a thing I'm used to."  
  
She had meant it as a joke but her face fell when she became aware of the distinct silence on the other end of the line. "Sergei? Everything okay?" she asked, puzzled.  
  
["Yeah, of course."] the young Russian answered cautiously. ["It's just. you know, what you just told me reminds me of what Harm told me about how you located him when he was lost at sea. So it's true."] His thoughtful voice trailed off.  
  
"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, her confusion deepening. "What is true? And I was in D.C. when Harm's plane went down. I couldn't possibly."  
  
["That's just the point,"] Sergei explained softly. ["Harm tells me the search teams passed him several times without finding him. Then the search was called off due to bad weather. It was only after you had that vision and supplied the coordinates that they finally got to him. And just in time. Colonel, I can never thank you enough for saving his life."]  
  
The deepest sincerity of his gratitude was too much. Sarah fell into defensive mode, trying to block out what she didn't understand and didn't want to understand, either. "This is not funny," she said icily.  
  
["But if I tell you that he."] Sergei began but enraged, Sarah cut him off.  
  
"This is no goddamned time for jokes about my lost memory," she blurted out. What did that jerk think he was doing? "Tell me what you have to say or quit producing shit like this!"  
  
For a moment, Sarah thought he had ended the connection but then she heard him draw a shaky breath. ["Harm warned me that upsetting a Marine was potentially dangerous,"] he said, his attempt at mockery barely succeding to conceal his vexation. ["So I won't even begin to try to contradict. But I suggest you call your little sister Chloe and ask her about how you found her when she was lost in the woods. What she told me coincides very much with Harm's story. Good evening, Colonel."]  
  
The line went dead. Sarah stared at the receiver in her hand and tried to get a grip on her whirling thoughts. One thing was obvious: she had seriously upset the nice young man that she'd come to like a lot. And thinking about it objectively, Sergei was too tenderhearted to make up something like this to make fun of her situation. So, then, what the hell was this mental thing?  
  
Nonsense. Pure bullshit. Things of the kind didn't exist.  
  
Yet, a small nagging doubt just wouldn't be chased. 'What if.?' the little voice kept whispering in her head, 'What if.?'  
  
Sarah tried to ignore it for the next hour but instead of shutting up, it only grew louder and louder, resounding in her soul, haunting her.  
  
So eventually, she resigned and gave in to the inevitable. Thumbing through her contacts list, she had soon found the number she was looking for and dialed, not quite knowing what to expect.  
  
["Hello?"] a friendly voice said into her ear.  
  
"Good evening, ma'am," Sarah began, feeling a little self-conscious, "This is Sarah Mackenzie. I'm sorry for disturbing you but I need to speak to Chloe for a moment, if that'd be possible."  
  
["Colonel Mackenzie!"] The voice Sarah had identified as Chloe's grandmother's greeted her warmly. ["I'm so glad you've recovered so well. You're not disturbing us at all. Chloe will be thrilled. Just a moment, please."]  
  
Forty-seven seconds later, a young, radiant voice took over. ["Mac! I was wondering when you'd call! Harm told me you weren't so well yet. It's so great to hear from you! How did."]  
  
Determined not to panic, Sarah gently cut in, "I know, I'm sorry. I should have called earlier. But you know, with my rehab and so on. I barely found the time to call even now and my doctors tell me to concentrate on nothing but my training," she lied. "That's why I have very little time right now, I'm so sorry."  
  
["Don't worry, I'm glad whenever I get a word with you."] Sarah could tell Chloe tried not to sound disappointed. ["So how d'ya do? Found those missing bits of your memory you told me about?"]  
  
Now things were getting tricky. She needed to stick to the story she had given her, that she was suffering a slight, partial amnesia like Harm had after his crash. But at the same time she needed to inquire after something that apparently defined her personality in some way - so 'slight' and 'partial' was getting difficult to hold up.  
  
"Yeah, I learned a lot about myself in the last few weeks," Sarah answered, tingeing her voice as happy and light as she could. "You know, actually it's amazing to find out things about yourself you didn't even know you ever thought about." She let a chuckle follow her statement, hoping it sounded genuine.  
  
["God, I guess it is!"] Chloe agreed, obviously amazed by the concept.  
  
Sarah decided she'd better get to the point as soon as possible. "Actually, this is why I'm calling," she cut in, trying to sound neutrally curious and gulping down her anxiety. "You know, I talked with Sergei today."  
  
["Oh, how is he?"] Chloe asked eagerly.  
  
"He's fine, thank you, and he asked me to say hello to you. Anyway, we were talking about all kinds of things and at some point - I don't even remember how it came up - he mentioned something about that you were once lost in the woods and I found you." Again, Sarah chuckled nervously.  
  
Chloe gasped. ["What? You don't remember? Why, you located me with that mental thing of yours, just the way you located Harm in May. You do remember that one, right?"]  
  
"Of course I do," Sarah lied quickly, "How could I forget that night?" 'Indeed, how could I?' she added sadly in her mind. "I was just surprised that I seem to have done this so often. So I wanted to ask you if you could quickly fill me in on the particulars. I'm sure once you do, it'll all come back in a second."  
  
["Sure,"] Chloe immediately complied. ["You know, there was that tree."]  
  
For the next ten minutes, Sarah just sat and listened, her stomach knotting ever more as her 'sixth sense' or however one wanted to call it, took a distinct form. Not for the first time, she cursed Colonel Mackenzie for having been such a darn complex person. When Chloe had ended, Sarah took a steadying breath and inquired lightly, "Wow, did I ever tell you where this. thing. came from?"  
  
["No, you didn't,"] Chloe answered, obviously amused. ["And when I asked you about it you even told me pointblank that things like that didn't exist. Actually, I'm still wondering how on Earth I convinced you to try and locate Harm with it if it didn't."]  
  
Sarah felt she had to mirror her amusement and forced a little laugh. "Yeah, right."  
  
Luckily, she didn't need to comment any further because Chloe was already going on. ["But I do have a theory,"] she said eagerly. ["It's kinda freaky but if you want to hear it."]  
  
Smirking at the young girl's obvious interest in the supernatural, Sarah admitted to herself that she was burning to know what Chloe was thinking. "Tell me," she simply stated.  
  
["I was thinking if you hadn't inherited it from your Cherokee great- grandmother."]  
  
Confused, Sarah asked, "Cherokee? I thought she was Iranian."  
  
Hearing Chloe laugh out loud, she knew she had to tread more carefully still. ["Gee, Mac, you're doing a poor job disentangling your brains, right? Your mother's mother was Iranian. Your dad's grandma was a Cherokee."]  
  
"Oh, sure, right," Sarah laughed hastily, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just way too tired to have this conversation. Interesting theory, though. You know what? I'll just hit the rack now and let the info sink in. I'm sure tomorrow everything you just mentioned's gonna be in the right order again."  
  
["It better,"] Chloe answered, her grin audible. ["Go get some sleep and call me when you can, okay?"]  
  
"Sure. Take care, Chloe, I love you," Sarah took her leave, wondering if this had been the right way to do it.  
  
Apparently, Chloe didn't find anything unnatural in her words. ["Love you, too, Mac. And don't panic. Harm got well again. I'm sure you will, too. Bye!"]  
  
"Bye," Sarah said softly to the already dead phone-line. For several minutes she just sat and stared blankly at the receiver in her hand, giving her brain a little time to process what she had just been told. And it was then that an idea slowly began to form at the back of her mind.  
  
She felt completely unwilling to contact a psychotherapist about her state. Whenever Harm had tried to bring up the topic, she had refused pointblank. Trying to tell someone who didn't know her at all anything about a woman she herself hadn't figured out yet - and bringing all the pain out in the open that she was struggling with day by day? Nope. Maybe that was good for other people. But she abhorred the thought of sharing her private agonies with someone so totally unrelated to her.  
  
But. Chloe's theory had struck a chord somewhere inside her. Sarah knew she didn't believe in the supernatural, but just today she had been given more than enough evidence about herself that was hard to contradict. So what if her little sister was right? What if this really was some kind of Cherokee heritage? Improbable as it seemed to her, Sarah felt she was unable to dismiss the possibility from her mind. And if exploring it meant opening up to some kind of. well, medicine man or whoever would know about such things, Sarah felt that strangely, the idea was less appalling to her than seing a therapist. After all, didn't she somehow belong to them?  
  
'God, I must be freaking desperate if I consider doing such a thing,' she scolded herself.  
  
Yet, that night, Sarah Mackenzie went to bed just a little less afraid.  
  
To be continued. (Feedback - as always - very much appreciated!) 


	10. Chapter Ten

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Ten Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
From part nine:  
  
She felt completely unwilling to contact a psychotherapist about her state. Whenever Harm had tried to bring up the topic, she had refused pointblank. Trying to tell someone who didn't know her at all anything about a woman she herself hadn't figured out yet - and bringing all the pain out in the open that she was struggling with day by day? Nope. Maybe that was good for other people. But she abhorred the thought of sharing her private agonies with someone so totally unrelated to her.  
  
But. Chloe's theory had struck a chord somewhere inside her. Sarah knew she didn't believe in the supernatural, but just today she had been given more than enough evidence about herself that was hard to contradict. So what if her little sister was right? What if this really was some kind of Cherokee heritage? Improbable as it seemed to her, Sarah felt she was unable to dismiss the possibility from her mind. And if exploring it meant opening up to some kind of. well, medicine man or whoever would know about such things, Sarah felt that strangely, the idea was less appalling to her than seing a therapist. After all, didn't she somehow belong to them?  
  
'God, I must be freaking desperate if I consider doing such a thing,' she scolded herself.  
  
Yet, that night, Sarah Mackenzie went to bed just a little less afraid.  
  
Part Ten:  
  
Feb. 25th 1357 ZULU Rosslyn, VA  
  
Harm observed closely as Mac was studying the sign, standing rooted in front of the door to the simple white house, obviously pondering whether to go in or not. He knew just how difficult this was for her - after all, this was exactly what she had wanted to avoid at all cost. But he knew it would do her good if she would just make up her mind to it, and he was glad that her plans for once coincided with his wishes.  
  
There was only one Cherokee healer to be found in the whole of D.C. and its surroundings. The polished brass sign at his front door read:  
  
Bailey A. Smith M.D. Neurology - psychiatry - psychology Cherokee natural healing Appointments upon request  
  
Harm was infinitely grateful that Mac had finally gotten to this point. She was indeed about to see a therapist. At last.  
  
Two days ago, when he had come over for dinner, Mac had been considerably uneasy. When he had asked if anything was wrong, she had told him of the phone calls she had just had with Sergei and Chloe. And then she had, carefully at first, filled him in on her idea of exploring her mental abilities from this new perspective.  
  
While his immediate reaction had been a hearty outburst of laughter - something he had immediately regretted upon seeing Mac's disappointment at him - Harm had to admit that Chloe's theory sounded at least vaguely probable. But still, he didn't feel too well about where Mac was headed. In fact, this wasn't 'Mac'. Only 'Sarah' would consider taking such a step. 'Mac' definitely wouldn't. So he had at once volunteered to look for a Native American healer in the Yellow Pages for her - hoping that by doing so, he would save her from ending up with some fraud that might do more damage than good in the end.  
  
When he had come across Dr. Smith's advertisement, Harm had been greatly relieved. He felt he had found someone he could trust. After all, Smith did have a triple degree in medicine. Harm had at once called and made an appointment for Mac. Mac had seemed quite content - until she had found out that Dr. Smith was mainly a therapist. When she had confronted him with her discovery, Harm hadn't even tried to deny his interest in getting her to see him. After a few icy, silent hours, Sarah had finally given in. The hope of getting a hold on her memories had apparently outweighed her concerns at last.  
  
Just to what extent she was afraid, Harm had easily been able to see when Mac had asked him to go with her. True, she had claimed it was because she might need him to provide any information the psychologist might ask for but wouldn't be able to get from her because she didn't remember. But mainly - and he was seeing it just as clearly as Mac was - she wanted him to come along because she was afraid. This was 'Sarah' coming forth again. Harm was sure 'Mac' wouldn't even have told him she had an appointment.  
  
As Mac apparently didn't find the force to take the last few steps up to the door on her own accord, Harm gently placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed a little. "Come on, Marine," he said softly, "Let's face the enemy."  
  
Mac turned her gaze to his and gratitude, intermixed with trepidation, was shining in her eyes. "Okay," she answered with a faint smile. "Thank you, Harm."  
  
He rubbed her back a little, returning her smile. "Everything's gonna be okay."  
  
He could see she didn't quite believe him but nevertheless, she squared her shoulders with a decided breath and let herself be guided to the door. Harm rang the doorbell and a minute later, a friendly, old man in an elegant gray suit welcomed them.  
  
"Mr. Rabb and Ms. Mackenzie?"  
  
"Yes," Harm nodded. Mac seemed to be too intimidated even for that.  
  
The man bowed slightly, offering his hand to Mac with a slight smile. "Bailey Smith, very pleased to meet you. Please, come on in."  
  
They shook hands and then followed Smith into the house. Harm winked encouragingly as Mac threw him a small confused frown. He, too, was surprised at the doctor's attire and appearance, but then he decided that any expectations of meeting with a long-haired man in leather slacks and with feathers and pearls around his neck would have been foolish anyway. A fact that was immediately underlined by the three Harvard master certificates that were hanging in the corridor Smith led them through. The whole practice breathed distinguished taste and style, the white walls and the select few expressionist paintings creating an atmosphere of calm and intellectual retreat.  
  
The glance Mac gave him when they entered the doctor's office seemed to plead with him to take her away again, to the safety of her apartment, to his own, wherever. Just away... And yet, the moment the old man sat down behind his desk and with an amazingly juvenile smile bade them to take a seat, Harm knew they had found the right person for Mac to talk to. The sincere benevolence and wisdom in Smith's eyes, paired with an almost adolescent spirit of mind and a considerable amount of mischief, were plain disarming. Sitting down, Harm had unconsciously taken Mac's hand into his. Now, he felt her return his squeeze and when he looked at her, her answering smile was almost relaxed. A wave of relief washed over him.  
  
Smith took a few seconds to openly look at them, seeming to size them up to prepare for his task - and apparently wanting to give them the same opportunity. Taking in a few more details, Harm thought he could now see Smith's Native roots in him. He was a rather small person, 5'4 at best, and his actual strength was barely shining through his seemingly fragile stature. His skin did have a slight tinge in between reddish-brown and olive and his nose was just a little hooked, as if to satisfy any clichés. His eyes were huge and dark, and hadn't his hair been well cut and snow white, Harm would have had no difficulties picturing Smith on a horse out on the prairie.  
  
"So," Smith eventually spoke up, looking at Mac, "Ms. Mackenzie, what can I do for you?"  
  
Harm saw Mac swallow and unconsciously tightened his hold of her trembling hand. "I, uh..." Mac began, then cleared her throat and tried again. "I lost my memory," she stated quickly as if she wanted to rid herself of the problem by getting it out in the open and leaving it to others to deal with it.  
  
Smith's eyebrows went up a notch. "Oh? Very well - what happened that led to your memory loss, Ms. Mackenzie?" After his initial surprise he was now all professional, his gentle smile dimming a little but never vanishing.  
  
"I was shot in the course of a search and rescue operation in Arizona and fell into a coma. I suffered a superficial cranial injury from a ricochet, but as my doctors told me, it's unlikely it had very much to do with my state." Mac handed him an envelope with her MRI pictures.  
  
Rising and walking over to the window, Smith asked, "Would you mind giving me a few more details of the incident?" While Mac explained, Harm supplying extra information whenever she left something out, Smith carefully studied the photos. When Mac had ended, the doctor returned to his chair and handed the photos back across the desk.  
  
"Your doctors were right, Ms. Mackenzie. I can't see any major indication, either, that your loss of memory had a physical cause. It seems more likely we're talking about traumatic stress suppression here. How much about yourself do you remember? And did you try anything to retrieve your memory yet?"  
  
Again, Mac calmly explained what she had learned since she had awoken and where she suspected lay any major deficits. Harm knew this attitude she had fallen into: this was Mac, the JAGman investigator. Facts, facts, facts... and not a thing beyond. So it seemed only natural and consequent that she didn't mention her - their - private life at all. Not knowing if getting into matters of the heart would have been advised anyway, Harm only helped with a few professional issues and a few general details about their working relationship and friendship.  
  
However, it soon became very clear that Smith wouldn't be fooled. He listened quietly as they laid out the case to him, letting his eyes travel from Harm to Mac and back again several times in the course of their tale. When Mac fell silent again, Smith addressed her with a smile that was just a little curious and knowing in the benevolent way only age could supply.  
  
"So, Commander Rabb is your best friend, Colonel?" he asked openly. "How close exactly are you?" Harm prayed the doctor wouldn't dwell on the topic for too long.  
  
Mac sighed. "If I knew, I probably wouldn't be sitting here, doctor," she answered. "But judging from what happened after the incident, I'd assume we're as close as any platonic friendship can get. And, please, doctor, don't call me 'Colonel'," she added, her voice a little lower. "I'm a civilian now."  
  
Apparently, Mac's answer was acceptable enough for Smith. He didn't comment on the issue any further, for which Harm was grateful. "So what would you like me to call you then?" the doctor asked. "Sarah?"  
  
Mac nodded. "Yes." Her voice was just a little unsure.  
  
"And you, Commander?" Smith turned to look at Harm, his wise eyes exerting a strange effect on him. They seemed to look right into the inmost sanctuary of his heart, right where he had buried his most cherished memories and wishes.  
  
"Uh... call me Harm," he replied awkwardly.  
  
"Okay, Sarah, Harm," Smith went on. "What is it that you came to me for? Do you plan on taking up psychotherapy, did you want advice on what options you might have, or is there something else altogether?" he asked, almost as if he knew what had brought them to his house in the first place.  
  
When Mac quickly glanced at him, obviously unsure if to reveal her intentions or not, Harm only gave her a slight encouraging nod once again, still not letting go of her hand. This was something she'd have to explain by herself.  
  
She gave a low nervous chuckle before answering. "Doctor Smith, uh... I know this sounds really weird and I hope you won't take offence that we chose you for your ancestry mainly but..." she let her voice trail off, looking helpless.  
  
Smith's smile had widened again. "Not at all, Sarah. Am I right to assume that you have a special interest in my Cherokee roots because you have Native American ancestors as well?"  
  
Obviously surprised, Mac for a second gaped at him before she regained control of her demeanor again. "Yes, that's right," she admitted just a little sheepishly, "Actually, my great-grandmother was Cherokee, too. And... you know... sometimes I seem to have... well... kind of a sixth sense or..." She vigorously shook her head as if to scold herself for being so foolish. "I have no clue what this... thing... is but apparently I saved two people's lives using it, among them Commander Rabb's. And as whatever I tried to get a hold on anything of my former life failed, I thought I might as well try using that sense again for my own purpose."  
  
So, there, she had said it. Although Harm could feel her pain and her anxiety, he still had to stifle a grin at hearing her defiant explanation. 'Way to go, Marine, you're doing fine. Hang in there,' he encouraged her quietly.  
  
The old doctor observed her for a few moments as she was trying to will her breathing down to normal again. "There are many things in between Heaven and Earth that we don't understand," he eventually remarked calmly and sagely. "I have to admit that I'm pleased that you obviously consider this a possible cure, and I'll gladly assist you. But I have to warn you: the powers of the spirits don't reveal themselves to those whose minds are still closed up and don't fully acknowledge the possibility of their existence. If you want to follow that road," Smith's gaze was intense and filled with a deep, innate faith in what he was talking about, "You'll have to let go of your defenses. You may still doubt - but your doubts mustn't exclude any possible outcome. I'll need you to open up utterly and completely. Both of you," he added with an intent look into Harm's eyes, making his heart skip a beat and sudden fear rise in his throat.  
  
He hadn't counted on actually being a part of whatever might happen. Sitting by was what he had come for, not partaking. But one look into Mac's anxious and yet so beautiful eyes made him push aside his reluctance in an instant. He had come to help her. And he would, no matter what. "All right," he murmured consent. Mac nodded, swallowing.  
  
Smith rose and opened the door to the adjacent room, then turning back and smiling invitingly. "If you would please follow me..."  
  
A little unsure if he would like what they were going to find inside, Harm guided Mac through the doorway, the hand on the small of her back exercising gentle pressure to let her know he was there.  
  
The room was spacey and just as calmly stylish as the others - a polished wooden floor, white walls, a couple of plants, a fireplace even. But there was no furniture in it, and instead of modern art, the few pictures hanging on the walls were Native artwork of various North-American nations. The only items Harm recognized were a sketch of Kokopelli, the mythic Anasazi flute player, and a slightly modern oil painting of the Cherokee Double Eagle Head. The whole room was cozily lit by two big modern chandeliers. In the middle of the floor lay a thick carpet in natural colors ranging from pearl white to dark brown. The air was warm and bore the faintest perfume of some vaguely familiar herbs.  
  
Smith stepped onto the carpet and kneeled down, repeating his inviting gesture with ever the same gentle smile on his face. "Sarah, would you please lay down here? Don't be afraid. What we're going to do has nothing to do with exorcism or anything. Actually, we're not even going to leave the path of classic psychology. If you'll consent to it, I'm going to hypnotize you and then we'll try to explore whatever may lie buried in the dark. The only help I'm going to have is from a little herbal tea - old family recipe from my grandmother who was a medicine woman," he added, winking. "But as I said - don't worry. The tea only has the slightest of sedating effects. Just to accelerate the hypnotizing process a little. Think of it more as of a medicine than as of some drug." His expression turned a little disgusted. "Drugs will only cloud your senses even more when you try to open up with their help. Those hippies will never understand just what damage they caused natural medicine with their ways..." His sigh was just a little theatrical.  
  
"Okay," Mac acknowledged in a small, intimidated voice, obediently lying down on her back in the middle of the carpet.  
  
"What about me?" Harm asked, hoping Smith wouldn't tell him to stay away. He could feel Mac was by far more than a little uneasy about the whole situation.  
  
"You'll kneel down behind her," Smith answered, "And take her head into your lap. She needs to feel secure in order to let go and open her mind to the spirits."  
  
Torn between joy about being allowed to comfort her so tenderly and trepidation at being so close to her again, Harm did as he was told. Mac closed her eyes as she lowered her head on his thighs. When he saw her features relax and an expression of quiet contentment take over, Harm was moved. She didn't really know him - and yet she trusted him so obviously. More determined than ever, he swore to himself that he'd do everything in his power to make her remember him the way he wanted her to. He gently placed his hands at both sides of her delicate face, his thumbs unconsciously caressing her cheeks.  
  
Smith had stepped up to them, holding two steaming mugs. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I fear you'll have to sit up again for a moment," he stated apologetically, handing them the mugs.  
  
"Uh... me, too?" Harm couldn't help asking as he accepted his drink.  
  
Smiling, the doctor nodded. "Of course. If you want to help her, your souls have to be in synchrony," he explained as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth.  
  
Unsure what to make of the statement, Harm decided to accept his fate and took a fair-sized mouthful. The liquid tasted a little like camomile with a touch of rose water and something else he absolutely couldn't define, strangely agreeable and soothing. The warmth of the beverage equaled the warmth of atmosphere in the room and all of a sudden, he began to feel very much at ease, completely at peace with himself, but still crystal clear in his mind, as he noted with considerable relief.  
  
Mac lay down again and closed her eyes. Harm gladly cradled her head and calmly waited for what was going to happen. Smith had taken off his jacket and tie and was now kneeling at Mac's side, hands on his thighs and eyes closed in concentration. After a few moments of the most intense silence Harm had ever witnessed, the doctor took Mac's hands in his and spoke up in a voice that seemed to Harm like the audible equivalent of some balm you'd put on a serious burn. "You are sleeping, Sarah. You are sleeping... and dreaming... your mind is resting... your thoughts are floating... your breathing is slowing down... but it is flowing constantly... in... out... in... out... You are sleeping... but you are not far away. You're right here... but your mind is elsewhere... You're going back... a day... two... three... a week... two weeks... you're still going... always going on... going and breathing... going and breathing...  
  
Smith paused in his chant, again letting silence sink in on everything. Harm sensed a strange loss where the voice had previously rung in his subconscious. Awe began to rise in him, awe of the power this man possessed and that he, Harm, couldn't even begin to understand.  
  
The doctor drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as if to prepare for the next phase. "Where are you now, Sarah?" he then gently addressed Mac, just loud enough to get through to her without waking her.  
  
Mac stirred a little, eyes still shut, but didn't answer. "Sarah. I know you can hear me," Smith tried again. "Where are you?"  
  
Her voice was distant and just a little hollow when she replied. "Office..." she murmured.  
  
"Did you go back a long time?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"What are you looking at?"  
  
"Computer... my hands on the keyboard..."  
  
"What about your hands?"  
  
"The ring... I'm going to get married soon. Very soon..."  
  
"Are you happy, Sarah?"  
  
"No... my friend will go away... he won't be there... but I must warn him... he mustn't try to make it back in time... he mustn't... he mustn't..." Mac was getting increasingly uneasy, and Harm had to lay his hands on her shoulders, applying considerable pressure to keep her down on her back.  
  
"What will happen if he does?" Smith asked.  
  
Strangely, Mac quieted down and remained silent. "Sarah, what will happen if you don't warn him?" the doctor tried again.  
  
"Black..." Mac only whispered. "All is black..."  
  
Turning to Harm, Smith sighed. "The fact that she stumbled upon this bit of information first tells us it's very important to her," he told Harm in a low murmur. "And that her memory failed her again just as she seemed to near the crucial point indicates that we're very close already to what might lie beneath her problem. Do you know what happened?"  
  
Harm had followed the scene, horror making his stomach knot. 'This' was the bottom of it all? He seriously doubted it. He swallowed. "The friend is me," he explained just as low, "My plane went down at sea in a thunderstorm when I tried to make it back in time for her wedding."  
  
Smith only observed him for a few long moments, not letting show any hint of what he might be thinking. Eventually, Harm felt he couldn't stand the scrutiny any longer and lowered his gaze to Mac's features that had relaxed again.  
  
"Try to go back past that day at your office, Sarah," Smith took up the procedure again. "Go back... take your time, Sarah... where are you now?"  
  
"Office..." came her faint answer just like the first time. Smith threw a puzzled glance at Harm but he only shrugged helplessly. After all, her profession had been the defining element of Mac's former life, so it seemed quite natural she should remember her office rather than anything else - although he did wish something else would come to her mind.  
  
"All right, what are you doing this time, Sarah?"  
  
"I'm standing in the hallway... he's there, standing at the glass door... he's got a box in his arms... I'm warm... I can still feel his arms around me... He's got no plants in his office... no plants..."  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
A lone tear escaped Mac's right eye, startling Harm who had placed his hands on her cheeks again as it trickled down on his thumb. "He's going away," Mac whispered shakily. "I don't want him to go... He can't leave me... I must make him stay... I must... How can I make him stay? How..." Biting his lips and involuntarily holding his breath, Harm again tried to quiet her down by squeezing her shoulders.  
  
Again, Smith decided to push forth. "Did you make him stay, Sarah? Or did he leave you?"  
  
"I..." a quiet sob shook her shoulders. Harm squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gulping his emotions down with considerable difficulty. Mac spoke up again, "I don't know... it feels like... like he's gone... but all is dark now..."  
  
The doctor met Harm's gaze. "I assume you are the person she's talking about?" he asked calmly.  
  
Harm nodded, his heart throbbing with regret. "I left JAG headquarters where we'd been working closely together, to go back to carrier flight duty," he explained in a low voice. Never had he imagined that his step might have caused her such pain. Of course she'd been sad but as devastated as this...  
  
"Self protection," Smith remarked calmly. "She blocks everything out the moment it starts hurting for real. Now I'd be interested in what triggered this behavioral pattern to develop. I'm inclined to think it might again have something to do with you, Harm. Do you have any ideas?"  
  
Sighing deeply, Harm shook his head. "Not really. Nothing of the kind happened again after my plane crash," he answered. "The whole thing started out of the blue after she'd gotten seriously hurt on our last mission in Red Rock Mesa."  
  
"I see," Smith nodded. "Sarah," he then addressed Mac, "I want you to turn around and move forward again, nearer back to us. Leap over the black holes you find on the way, they're not too wide for you. Don't be afraid... we're waiting for you, Sarah... we're standing in Monument Valley... at the foot of one of the big plateaus... can you see us? We're waving to you."  
  
"I see you," Mac answered drowsily. "Why are we here?"  
  
"Have you ever been here before?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Concentrate. Try to remember, Sarah. The red rocks... the sand..."  
  
"Dinosaur traces," Harm quickly supplied, hopeful.  
  
"Dinosaur traces, Sarah," Smith took up the hint. "Do you see them, they're right here."  
  
"No... never been here..." she weakly insisted, frowning in her trance. But then suddenly her face contorted painfully. "It hurts!" she sobbed. "My leg... I can't walk... I must... the humvees... I can't move... but I must! There's something in my arms that I need to get out of here... something... but I can't. Help! Harm! Help me! Save me! No, don't... get out... Harm! No... Not yet..."  
  
Harm couldn't stand the situation any longer. His shoulders were shaking just as badly as hers as her whole body was convulsing in painful sobbing. Her grief seemed bigger than anything he'd ever known himself. Not caring whether it might be beneficial or not, he scooped her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest, trying desperately to keep his own tears in check. "I'm so sorry, Mac," he murmured, his voice nearly suffocated. "It's all my fault. I failed to protect you... I should have saved you... somehow... anyhow... forgive me..."  
  
Apparently sensing that they were both at the verge of breaking down, Smith signaled to Harm to wake Mac with a few slight slaps on the cheeks. Drawing a few deep breaths, Harm managed to get a grip and then helped Mac come back to consciousness. She opened her eyes and obviously needed a few moments to sort out the situation. Astonishment began to tinge her expression when she became aware that Harm was holding her close to him.  
  
"Harm, what..." she began, confused.  
  
"How do you feel, Sarah?" Smith inquired gently.  
  
She frowned, never giving any indication that she wanted to move out of Harm's arms. He was infinitely glad about it. Right now he felt he needed her as badly as he ever had.  
  
"I had a nightmare..." Mac murmured, addressing no one in particular. "I was somewhere... I don't know where... and I knew I was going to die... there was nothing I could have done about it. You were there, Harm..." she looked up at him, more alert now. "Was it a memory? Did I find something?"  
  
He nodded. "You remembered parts of the shooting in Arizona," he explained to her. Hope was ringing in his voice when he added, "What do you recall?"  
  
Mac's brow furrowed in concentration. A minute passed in silence, then two, three. Eventually, her shoulders dropped. "Nothing," she choked out, her acute disappointment cutting through his heart like a knife. "Not a single thing... just that I was going to die. But nothing beyond." Harm could tell Mac was fighting her tears. He pulled her a little closer still and caressed her hair.  
  
Smith placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Don't despair, Sarah. That was only the first time you tried this kind of thing. Stick to whatever you may find out about Red Rock Mesa. I'm sure the clue must lie somewhere in this story. Take a little time and then see me again, okay?"  
  
Mac only nodded, apparently lost in deep thought, miles away from her actual surroundings. But all of a sudden, she raised her head and fixed her gaze to Harm's. He was amazed at the amount of sheer desperate determination showing in her eyes.  
  
"If the key to my problem lies in that mission or anything connected to it," she began, cautiously but decidedly, "Then I know who might hold it. Harm..." Her eyes bore into his, setting his heart aflame once again. "It's Golden's curse. I need to go to Fort Leavenworth."  
  
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - very much appreciated!) 


	11. Chapter Eleven

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Eleven Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part ten:  
  
He nodded. "You remembered parts of the shooting in Arizona," he explained to her. Hope was ringing in his voice when he added, "What do you recall?"  
  
Mac's brow furrowed in concentration. A minute passed in silence, then two, three. Eventually, her shoulders dropped. "Nothing," she choked out, her acute disappointment cutting through his heart like a knife. "Not a single thing... just that I was going to die. But nothing beyond." Harm could tell Mac was fighting her tears. He pulled her a little closer still and caressed her hair.  
  
Smith placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Don't despair, Sarah. That was only the first time you tried this kind of thing. Stick to whatever you may find out about Red Rock Mesa. I'm sure the clue must lie somewhere in this story. Take a little time and then see me again, okay?"  
  
Mac only nodded, apparently lost in deep thought, miles away from her actual surroundings. But all of a sudden, she raised her head and fixed her gaze to Harm's. He was amazed at the amount of sheer desperate determination showing in her eyes.  
  
"If the key to my problem lies in that mission or anything connected to it," she began, cautiously but decidedly, "Then I know who might hold it. Harm..." Her eyes bore into his, setting his heart aflame once again. "It's Golden's curse. I need to go to Fort Leavenworth."  
  
Part Eleven:  
  
Feb. 20th 1615 ZULU Military detention center Fort Leavenworth, Kansas  
  
As they were led through the long, bare, neon-lit corridors, Sarah contemplated the irony of it all. Barely a week ago, she had been relieved, knowing she wouldn't need to wear her uniform again - at least for quite some time, if ever. Today, however, she longed for the security the Marine green would have provided her in a place such as this. She felt bared and vulnerable in her elegant civilian attire. Sarah was well aware that the charcoal flannel suit and the burgundy shirt she wore underneath suited her very well, but not even the joy she had felt at Harm's open admiration when he had picked her up for the airport early this morning could prevent her from wishing for the shelter of her colonel's class A's.  
  
Always following closely in Harm's tracks, his tall Navy-blue frame being her one mental anchor, she once again thought of just how thankful she was that she had him to help her deal with all this - starting with the big issues of digesting her situation, right down to logistic problems such as getting access to a military high-security facility and subsequently the opportunity to confront the man who had caused all her present pain.  
  
At first, Harm had suggested she meet her uncle rather than Jeremy Golden, but Sarah had refused. Harm had argued that talking to someone who had been so close to her and knew a lot about her character might help a great deal. Of course, this kind of reasoning was nothing she could dismiss lightly. Yet, much as she longed to dig up anything that linked her to her past, Sarah was reluctant to confront Matthew O'Hara. She was well aware that she was being foolish about it but after all she had learned about Colonel O'Hara, about what strong and determined a person he was, about just how much he had influenced and formed her, she was ashamed to face him now. What would he think of the weak nobody his niece had become? And if he still cared, wouldn't she cause him unnecessary pain, letting him know about her state and leaving him completely unable to help?  
  
Still, after long arguing, Sarah had finally admitted to Harm that the main reason for her refusal lay elsewhere: she was plain terrified that she might meet him and not feel any connection at all. Her only living family member within reach, just another major disappointment in her quest? As long as she could shelve that moment, she would. So far, confronting the enemy seemed less dangerous than meeting but not recognizing a once beloved relative. So Sarah had insisted they see Lieutenant Commander Golden and leave the family reunion for some later occasion. At some point, Harm had given in.  
  
Harm had arranged their interview, claiming he - as the prosecutor who had gotten Golden convicted - wanted to offer him the possibility to turn State's evidence against some of his former criminal contacts. In some sort of a special after-trial plea bargain, Harm would then motion for Golden's verdict of double life imprisonment to be reduced from hard labor to ordinary brig time. Sarah as Golden's former defense counsel would offer to negotiate the plea with the prosecution.  
  
Nobody needed to know that for Golden, a plea bargain was nowhere near in sight.  
  
Sarah wasn't sure how she felt about seeing Golden again. She didn't remember anything about him - so meeting him shouldn't cause her any more problems than had meeting any of her friends or colleagues. But one factor altered the whole equation: Golden was the ultimate focus of Sarah's concentrated rage and hatred. She had no idea how she would react once she met face to face with him. She was sure Mac would have stayed all cool and professional - at least as far as keeping up outward appearances was concerned. 'Sarah', on the other hand, might behave completely differently. And what worried her most was that she didn't know which of the two scenarios applied.  
  
When the guard left them alone in the interrogation room to summon the delinquent, Harm once again turned to her, his concern showing clearly on his face. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Sarah?" he asked, "You know this could get pretty ugly, don't you?"  
  
Trying to appear more confident than she felt and asking herself at the same time whom she wanted to fool, Sarah gave her friend a wan smile. "Yeah, I know. I know Golden's obsessed with getting back at us," she recited the warnings Harm had voiced many times over ever since she had told him she wanted to confront her former client. "I know he'll be on the lookout for whatever weaknesses he may spot in us. I know I probably won't be able to conceal my problem from him, and I know that once I need to come out with it, he'll savor his triumph." She stepped back slightly, needing this bit of distance to steel herself for what was to follow. "But I need to do it, Harm. I really do. You understand that, right?"  
  
He sighed and nodded. "'Course I do. Or I wouldn't have come."  
  
"Thank you," she said simply, reading in his gaze the honesty of his support and his wish to protect her. "I don't know if I'd be able to follow through without you."  
  
His voice was very low when he answered. "You're welcome."  
  
Just then the door opened and Jeremy Golden stepped into the room. Harm seemed to barely restrain himself from jumping at his throat. Yet, Sarah witnessed as just a split second later, the invisible blinds in front of Harm's soul seemed to close and he fell into professional routine - friendly, but icy.  
  
Golden's smile was just a little too smug for Sarah's liking. She involuntarily lifted her chin a little higher... and immediately regretted it. Golden apparently noted each and every detail, be it visible or not. Her slight movement had kindled a spark in his eyes that didn't appear healthy to her at all.  
  
"Commander Rabb, how very kind of you to drop by," Golden drawled, unceremoniously dropping onto a chair when Harm motioned for him to sit down. Then he let his eyes wander to Sarah, making her cringe inwardly at his open display of malicious joy. "And my dear Colonel Mackenzie... or rather Ms. Mackenzie, as I hear you swapped green for silk and flannel... A tad too adventurous after all, the military, for a lady like you, eh?" he challenged.  
  
When Sarah prepared to answer she asked herself how long she'd hold up if this first reply had already forced her to gather all her mental strength. Yet, for now, she wouldn't back down. "There are far too many people of your caliber outside the military, too," she replied, squarely meeting and holding his gaze. "I just thought I might be needed to rid the world of some of them."  
  
"Wisely spoken," Golden mocked her. "But if that be the case, then what gentle breeze brings you by, honey?"  
  
"Civilian or not, you will show Ms. Mackenzie the full respect due an officer, Ensign," Harm threatened, stressing the rank Golden bore since having been degraded on trial. "Or you might as well forget that we were here in the first place."  
  
Golden didn't seem to be fazed. "...that you were here to do what exactly, sir?"  
  
Rather than see it, Sarah could feel that Harm's mental temperature was already nearing the boiling point. "To offer you a way out of hard labor," Harm stated pointedly, his words cutting the air like freshly shaped blades. "Not that you deserve it, but I'm willing to be generous this once - if you agree to cooperate."  
  
"I see," Golden said in a seemingly thoughtful voice. Then he suddenly turned to Sarah again, eyebrows raised. "But what would you be here for, ma'am?"  
  
"To offer my legal assistance as you already figured among my clients," Sarah retorted rather stiffly, mentally slapping herself for her insecurity.  
  
Pursing his mouth, Golden cocked his head and sized her up for a moment. She felt like being stripped of her clothes one by one under the scrutiny of his eyes, becoming more exposed and vulnerable by the second. Almost against hope, she hoped she'd be able to conceal her true state of mind from him, but as the thought was forming in her mind, she could already read in his eyes that he knew something was very wrong about the picture she was trying to give of herself.  
  
'This is what you get for sharing personal information with a client,' Sarah concluded, thinking about what Harm had told her of her defense strategy. 'Quid pro quo. Smart move, Sarah, smart move indeed.'  
  
Golden's grin had widened. "Thank you so much, ma'am. So, as the law expert, what'd you suggest I do?" he asked innocently.  
  
Sarah's voice was still as stiff as if she'd swallowed a stick and were sitting bolt upright. "I'd advise you to consider the commander's offer about turning State's evidence."  
  
"Aah... wouldn't I know it," Golden sighed theatrically. "There's always a catch, isn't there, ma'am? You want me to testify against my partners? That's a hard one..."  
  
"Consider what you'd get in return," Harm cut in curtly. "Here's the deal. You've already booked your lifetime suite in this noble inn, so you have nothing to lose. Instead I'll motion for changing your sentence from hard labor to 'ordinary' brig time if you'll testify against the men who acted on your command and kidnapped my brother, the colonel's sister and our colleagues' son."  
  
Observing the enemy closely, Sarah had seen something change in Golden's expression while Harm had been talking. The slightest bit of understanding had sparked in his eyes, and she knew that very moment that Golden had tasted blood. He wouldn't drop this particular topic anymore, now that it had been brought up. To anyone, Harm's words would have seemed determined. To her, however, who was close to him, they had sounded just a little desperate. And Sarah was convinced that Golden had concluded that there was far more to the picture.  
  
Golden actually chuckled. "Scary New Year, wasn't it? Too bad they screwed up. So I guess I might as well get back at them and tell you whatever you'd like to hear. Assuming I decide to go for it, what exactly would that be, sir?"  
  
"Watch your speech, Golden," Harm snarled, barely suppressed rage shining through his words. "Or we'll be gone before you can even salute."  
  
"Too bad, sir," Golden replied with feigned regret, "But I'd really need something more... inspiring to get me to talk. After all, I 'booked my suite' here, as you put it. The fun of an animated conversation with the two of you makes a little hard labor worthwhile. Ms. Mackenzie," he turned to Sarah and again his stare penetrated any walls that she had tried to erect around herself, "I kind of liked your 'Quid pro quo' antics. If anything, this might just give me the decisive push..."  
  
Expressly not looking at Harm - in order to show strength just as well as to avoid encountering the anxiety she knew lay in his gaze - Sarah stated, "Agreed."  
  
"Fine," Golden smirked. "I'll open the exchange. Yes, I contacted my former partners from within the brig via e-mail. Your turn."  
  
Again against her own will, Sarah gulped visibly. "Okay. You got what you wanted from the start, Golden," she forced herself to tell him. "I'm facing a few personal problems right now and I need to review the whole affair. I want your account of the trial."  
  
This time, Golden's expression of astonishment was almost sincere. "You puzzle me, ma'am. You were there, weren't you? Okay, here you go. The commander listed the facts, grilled a few witnesses and had me nailed. You did nothing about it. Quid pro quo, Colonel."  
  
"Your last statement in the courtroom made quite an impression on me," Sarah admitted, hating herself for doing it and hating him for expecting it and knowing she would comply. "What exactly did I tell you about ichnites and Red Rock Mesa?"  
  
For a long minute, Golden only scrutinized her. Then, a thin smile began to contort his face. "I don't think this game is as much fun as it used to be," he observed. "So, if you want to keep receiving answers, ma'am, you should accept my altered rules." All of a sudden, his gaze turned hard. "As are: there are no rules for me and just one for you. Until I decide I'm satisfied and feel inclined to talk, I'm asking and you'll answer. How about that?"  
  
Clearly enraged, Harm got up. "Ensign Golden, front and center!" he ordered, furious. Strangely enough, Golden complied and came to attention, although a hint of a smile kept still tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Harm went on, "Forget about the plea bargain. Forget that we ever even considered..."  
  
"Agreed," Sarah cut in, silently asking Harm to forgive her for questioning his authority this openly. But she saw her hopes dim that at least here, she might find something to trigger some kind of a mental re-start of her memory. And she wouldn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers. 'Don't look at Harm,' she implored herself, knowing full well what she would have found in his eyes. She was a traitor. She had stabbed him from behind when he had tried to protect her. But she couldn't help it. She needed to know.  
  
"At ease. Sit down, Ensign," Harm only said after a few tense seconds. It was obvious he was trying to rid his voice of any reproach.  
  
"Very well, sir, ma'am," Golden said smugly. "'Yes' or 'no' will do until I tell you otherwise. Let's make this simple: I'll limit myself to five questions. Then we'll see where we stand. So, question number one: do you agree that all the answers you've asked for so far would have been things that an experienced lawyer like you would never forget in the course of less than a year?"  
  
Her pulse rate had to have at least doubled. Golden was following the right track. 'God, help me pull through,' Sarah implored silently. "Yes," she said aloud, her voice devoid of any emotions.  
  
"Number two: am I right to assume that you normally don't ask your former clients such questions, ma'am?"  
  
"Yes, you're right," Sarah retorted defiantly. If she was bound to go down with this ship, she'd do it with her head uplifted.  
  
Golden seemed to enjoy himself immensely, seeing he was headed in the right direction. "So, judging from the course this conversation has taken, your attitude regarding this point has changed since New Year?"  
  
"Yes," Sarah said as curtly as possible.  
  
"To be more precise: did your change of mind occur after the Arizona shooting?"  
  
"Yes." Sarah thought her answer sounded as if it had been recorded on tape and was now being reproduced over and over again.  
  
"Last one: to be frank, Colonel, I hear you were gravely injured. Did your injuries cause you amnesia?"  
  
"Yes, they did," Sarah answered icily, having accepted failure and praying the outcome would justify the means in the end. "All right, I humiliated myself. You got your revenge. Go ahead. Enjoy it. But now I want details."  
  
His gaze falsely apologetic once more, Golden shook his head. "I'm sorry for you, ma'am... but I never said I'd answer now. I only said we'd see. Still, I'll concede that we can move this on to phase two. You still game?"  
  
'As much as I could ever be, masochist that I apparently am,' Sarah silently scolded herself, giving just another "Yes." and waiting for the next question.  
  
However, they were in for another surprise. Golden turned to Harm. "Fine. Commander, you'll answer me now, right? I'm sure you'll want to help your favorite former colleague to regain all the nice memories she must have of you," he sneered.  
  
"All right, enough," Harm snapped, getting up again and turning to Sarah. "Come on, Mac. Let's go. This is of no use."  
  
She didn't know how to react. She felt just how painful this had to be for him but cruel as it was, Golden was her last straw. She couldn't let it go. 'Harm, please...' she silently begged, her gaze glued to his.  
  
"Interesting," Golden remarked, observing their silent conversation. "Tell me, ma'am, are we fraternizing a little? Oh, sorry, now you're on the safe side, of course. Anyway, I suspected as much when I saw you face to face during the trial. I might just drop a hint to someone important about conduct unbecoming..." Letting his voice trail off and insinuating the consequences, he turned to Harm. "In denial, Commander? How come? With such a beautiful woman as her?"  
  
"You're having delusions, Ensign. Besides, my friendship with the colonel has absolutely nothing to do with what we're here for. We're willing to follow your outrageous game here, because any information you might have could be important. So, don't waste our time." Harm's answer had come out just a little more passionate than he'd probably planned.  
  
"Oh, I think it has everything to do with the case, Commander," Golden drawled, obviously doing a mental happy dance that he had the prosecution's fair hero on a short leash. "If you ask me," he leaned back on his chair and fixed the ceiling in a mock gesture of contemplating a philosophical issue, "Out there, in Arizona, your... 'friend' knew she was close to dying and the heartache of leaving you behind with matters still unresolved between you two was too much. So her memory just hotwired."  
  
Sarah was already regretting bitterly that she had insisted they stay. Seeing Harm's pained expression and somehow feeling keenly what was going on inside him, she reproached herself for exposing him so cruelly. She only hoped he'd ever be able to forgive her.  
  
"Maybe," was all Harm said, his face seeming to be carved in marble.  
  
Golden's eyebrows went up. "Did you really answer me? You're actually doing this, Commander? For her? Amazing. What do you think you'll achieve with this? Win her heart?"  
  
"Get the information she needs," Harm ground out.  
  
Golden frowned. "Awww, sir, you should know me better than that. I don't buy it. You have to know, I can judge that normally you'd already have kicked my butt to the moon instead of putting up with my game. That you're so compliant can mean only one thing: you consider the colonel more important than anything else. We don't get many heart-warming stories in here. So, here's my offer: let me have yours, 'the whole truth and nothing but the truth', of course... and I'll answer whatever you ask. Fair deal, I'd say. Up to you, sir." Smirking broadly, Golden leaned back again and crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting.  
  
Gray dots were dancing in front of Sarah's eyes and she had to keep reminding herself not to hyperventilate. Just how horrible could this get? Golden was offering to supply the information she longed for and needed desperately to maybe finally come back to herself again - at the price of forcing Harm to confess something he apparently hadn't even told his own mother, let alone her, whom it might concern the most. All of a sudden, Sarah was disgusted about herself. Who was she to force the best and most loyal friend she'd probably ever had - the man she loved - into letting himself torture just for a few facts she might need?  
  
"Harm," she quickly addressed him, unconsciously laying her hand on his forearm, "Don't let him do this to you. Let's just go. It's not that important anyway."  
  
"It is to me," he replied, surprising her as well as Golden who had apparently counted on a little more resistance.  
  
"Is it?" Golden asked, grinning maliciously. "Then spill it... sir."  
  
Harm's face was all marble again. Staring in Golden's direction, his voice was monotone and low when he made what Sarah recognized as probably the most intimate confession of his entire life. "All right, Golden. Have it your way. Quid pro quo. Yes, you're right. I'm doing this for her. I want her to come back to her true self again, more than anything. And you're right, too, if you're suspecting that I'm also doing this for myself. Sarah Mackenzie is the most important person in my life and I can't imagine it without her. Before all this happened, she was the one who made me want to excel in whatever I was doing. She was the one whom I used to share every happy moment with, and she was whom I'd turn to whenever I needed support. Now, all I can ever think of is getting her back and keeping her in my life for good. And I'll do whatever it takes to get there. Was that enough to satisfy you?" he asked just a little defiantly.  
  
"Definitely." Golden seemed to savor the word as it was slowly rolling off his tongue, observing both of them closely.  
  
Sarah suspected he could see just how close she was to crying - from joy because although Harm hadn't said it expressly, she had recognized his words as a declaration of love. And from despair - because he had all but said it openly that he didn't consider her the woman he loved anymore. Now she knew that not only her personality depended on retrieving her memory. Her whole future happiness, her life together with Harm was hanging on that one thread of hope.  
  
"Good," Harm said, his emotional exhaustion evident in his voice. He didn't even seem to try to conceal it. "I've fulfilled my part of the deal. Now it's your turn, Ensign."  
  
An achingly long moment passed before Golden spoke up again. "No," he said calmly, still smiling. "I don't need your offer anymore, sir. Why should I even consider turning State's evidence against my former partners? I'd have done it to have a bit of a vendetta because they screwed up my nice revenge plans in the first place. But... what they did accomplish is just so much better. I might even feel inclined to think of a gesture of gratitude towards them..." He stood. "If you'll please tell the guards to take me back to my cell, ma'am, sir?"  
  
For a few seconds, Harm didn't even budge. He had paled and beads of perspiration were visible on his forehead. Then he slowly got up - a broken image of the man Sarah had come to know as Harmon Rabb, Jr. The man who had done the one thing he feared most, who had finally opened up and had laid his heart on the table in front of someone so utterly undeserving. He had bared his soul to someone he despised, for the sole purpose of helping her, and he had been pushed back into the dirt instead of achieving what he had made this enormous sacrifice for. He was standing motionless, unflinching, but to Sarah's eyes, it was as evident as anything that Harm was devastated and hurting tremendously.  
  
This was her breaking point. Wondering for a fleeting moment if this was a remainder of Mac resurfacing, she suddenly sprung to her feet and violently punched the startled Golden in the face, making him topple to the ground. She stood over him for a moment, panting, willing herself not to kick his defenseless form. "Harm, I think we need a medic," she whispered shakily. "Self defense," she only added, knowing that from her point of view, it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback very much appreciated!) 


	12. Chapter Twelve

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Twelve Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part eleven:  
  
"Good," Harm said, his emotional exhaustion evident in his voice. He didn't even seem to try to conceal it. "I've fulfilled my part of the deal. Now it's your turn, Ensign."  
  
An achingly long moment passed before Golden spoke up again. "No," he said calmly, still smiling. "I don't need your offer anymore, sir. Why should I even consider turning State's evidence against my former partners? I'd have done it to have a bit of a vendetta because they screwed up my nice revenge plans in the first place. But... what they did accomplish is just so much better. I might even feel inclined to think of a gesture of gratitude towards them..." He stood. "If you'll please tell the guards to take me back to my cell, ma'am, sir?"  
  
For a few seconds, Harm didn't even budge. He had paled and beads of perspiration were visible on his forehead. Then he slowly got up - a broken image of the man Sarah had come to know as Harmon Rabb, Jr. The man who had done the one thing he feared most, who had finally opened up and had laid his heart on the table in front of someone so utterly undeserving. He had bared his soul to someone he despised, for the sole purpose of helping her, and he had been pushed back into the dirt instead of achieving what he had made this enormous sacrifice for. He was standing motionless, unflinching, but to Sarah's eyes, it was as evident as anything that Harm was devastated and hurting tremendously.  
  
This was her breaking point. Wondering for a fleeting moment if this was a remainder of Mac resurfacing, she suddenly sprung to her feet and violently punched the startled Golden in the face, making him topple to the ground. She stood over him for a moment, panting, willing herself not to kick his defenseless form. "Harm, I think we need a medic," she whispered shakily. "Self defense," she only added, knowing that from her point of view, it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.  
  
Part Twelve:  
  
Feb. 21st 0221 ZULU Mac's apartment Georgetown, D.C.  
  
Silence.  
  
Ever since they had left Leavenworth, they hadn't spoken but a few unavoidable words. The taxi ride to the airport, their flight back to D.C., the ride to her place in his car - endless hours of extreme tension and silent suffering on both sides. At least Harm suspected as much. He knew very well how he felt, and judging from the way Mac's jaw was set and how she tried to avoid facing him whenever she could, she had to be hurting just as much as he was. Just the reason was probably a little different.  
  
He had vowed he'd keep his feelings buried deep inside, even at the price of giving an impression of being unable to talk from the heart. That had been the role he had played for years anyway. So it hadn't taken too much getting used to. The knowledge that he had once crossed that line and had been able to tell her how he felt had made him keep his vow. This and the hope he would be able to do it again when the time came - and that he would be rewarded with her love as he had been back then.  
  
Today's interview had changed everything. Apart from hurting because he had allowed his feelings to resurface, his heart was aching even more because Mac had to think he was a coward, acting only under pressure and telling a worthless person what would have been hers to hear from him, all alone. He knew she had feelings for him that surpassed the boundaries of the 'friendship' scenario he had introduced her to. Their brief close encounter in Arizona had told him that she longed for him to tell her that he was feeling more than friendship for her, too. And today, he knew he had gravely wounded her recovering soul not only by explaining to someone else that he had loved the person she had once been, but even more so by choosing his words in a way that had made it clear to her that she couldn't expect to be loved by him anymore. Not as long as she didn't find her way back.  
  
But that wasn't true at all - and that was where his ever-growing problem lay. He did love her. He still did want her in his life just as badly as he had wanted her before the tragedy. His longing and desire for her to become his - emotionally as well as physically - were slowly but steadily eating him up from inside. A thousand times a day, he had to will himself to refrain from pouring his heart out to her and give in to what he knew she wished most. Knowing they both wanted nothing more than to acknowledge their bond and yet knowing that it would be fatal to do so... Harm had no idea just for how long he would have the strength to carry on.  
  
Only the conviction that he did it for her best, saving her the pains of a probable failure, was keeping him from faltering. He still loved 'Mac' too much not to look for her in 'Sarah'. And under this burden, Sarah was sure to break. She might not know it, but she was better off if he left her alone.  
  
When he had still been seeing Diane in Mac, the danger of him having a weak moment had lessened as the time had passed. Being with Mac, he had soon learned that Diane had been a different person altogether. The longer he had known his JAG partner, the more his Academy love had faded into the background. At a certain point, it had become as natural as anything to know the difference between the woman who had once been in his heart and the one who had slowly found her way into it.  
  
Now, however, the situation was reversed. As Harm was sitting on the couch in Mac's living room, waiting for her to get the coffee she had offered upon their return from Kansas, Harm was aware of how much the apartment had become 'her' again. It wasn't the clean, rather impersonal place anymore that he had brought her back to from California. In the course of the last weeks, Mac had made herself at home again. The place breathed of her personality. And he noted that it was just as he had known it to be. So, the longer he was near 'Sarah', the more she became 'Mac' again in his eyes, whether he wanted her to or not.  
  
He saw that Mac's hand was shaking when she set the coffee mug on the table before him. A few drops fell onto the polished piece of furniture but right now she didn't seem to have the nerve to wipe them away. Instead she only retreated to the other end of the couch and, clutching her own mug with both hands, she blew into the brown liquid, staring at the ripples her breath caused on the surface.  
  
Picking up his own mug, Harm observed her over its rim. Mac didn't even seem to be ashamed of showing how intimidated she was by the situation. He had to admit to himself that this was a side he liked in 'Sarah' - not having to fight the eternal wall that had so often closed her off from him. But then, he had changed, too, in this respect. Before New Year, it had just as often been him to seek shelter behind a mask of his own. Now, he felt he wanted to talk about what had happened today. Badly. So when she had invited him to come up for coffee, apparently having thoughts of a similar kind, he had gladly accepted right away. Much as he would try to keep his distance, he wouldn't be the one to run. This friendship was too important to miss out on any chance to save it.  
  
When the silence was becoming hard to bear, he sighed, deciding it was up to him to offer the opening. After all it had been him - forced or not - who had clearly taken a step today that couldn't be undone. "I'm sorry about the way things went today," he said in a low voice.  
  
Mac took a sip of coffee and swallowed it with considerable difficulty. Still not looking at him, she asked, "You're sorry that I heard how you felt about my alter ego?"  
  
He couldn't help wincing slightly. Shaking his head slowly, he set down his mug again and unconsciously hugged himself in a gesture of self-protection. "No, I'm sorry about the way you heard. I should have told you directly. But I had no idea..."  
  
"That he was going to pull that move on you?" she asked, unable to fully mask the hurt in her voice. "Do you think you would have told me if you could have been sure the topic would never be forced onto you?"  
  
"I dunno," he murmured, resigned. 'Honesty, Rabb,' he then reminded himself. "No, actually, I do know," he went on just as low, making her look up at him, her surprise evident. "I do know that I wouldn't have," he admitted, pained, "Because I swore to myself I wouldn't."  
  
The sudden flash of pain in her eyes stabbed him in the heart. "You must have loved her more than anything," she stated in a low, choked voice.  
  
He nodded, drawing a shaky breath. "Yeah," he finally acknowledged, looking away.  
  
After what sounded like a low, suppressed sob, it took her a while to formulate her next question. Or to gather her courage - Harm didn't know which it was. Eventually, though, she spoke up again. "Did Mac know how you felt?"  
  
"For a long time, I suppose," he answered truthfully, forcing himself to meet her gaze again and finding a single tearstain on her right cheek that he didn't dare wipe away right now.  
  
"But did you ever tell her?"  
  
Harm felt as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff. Take one step forward - and break the vow you made to safeguard your hopes of happiness. Don't - and let her deduce from your silence that you want to exclude her from your life. With a slight, defiant shake of his head, Harm ignored the million thoughts spinning through his brain and decided to trust his gut for once. He stepped into the void.  
  
"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, reaching for Mac's hand as she had just set down her mug on the table, too. Encircling her fingers with his, he became aware that they were icy although she had warmed them all the time while drinking. Her eyes widened as she seemed to read in his what had followed his admission back then.  
  
Entire minutes ticked by. Neither of them knew in which direction they could safely descend the mountain they had just climbed together.  
  
"Then why do you keep looking after me?" she finally queried, her voice barely audible. "If things have changed that much for you, you must hate me for not being her..."  
  
"But I don't," he admitted shakily, desperately trying to stop himself but at the same time knowing it was a lost cause. The pressure deep inside had found a hairline crack in his armor and was about to make it crumble for good. "I don't, Sarah," he repeated, cupping her face with his left hand and finally brushing away the tearstain with his thumb.  
  
Fear welled up in him when he saw the slightest glimmer of hope creep into her eyes. "Then stop drawing back," she pleaded shyly. "I may not be who I once was, but I can assure you that you won't find me any less devoted to you than she may have been." She swallowed hard, briefly closing her eyes and then looking at him again in firm determination. "Listen, Harm... you need to know that... that over the last few weeks, I have come to love you very much."  
  
"Mac... Sarah... don't..." he protested weakly, knowing he didn't mean it.  
  
The vulnerability in her eyes bordered on being inhuman. "Am I really that different?" she whispered, barely getting the words out. "Don't you think you could in time learn to love me? Would it be so hard to imagine that I might still be able to give you what you were hoping for? I'm only asking for a chance, Harm. Maybe you don't love me now but..."  
  
At those words, his last defense line fell. "Wait," he choked out, looking down to regroup a moment and holding up his hand to make her see he needed to be heard out now. When he felt settled enough to speak coherently, he gently took her face in both his hands, laying all his heart into his gaze, praying he was doing the right thing.  
  
"I do love you, Sarah," he admitted hoarsely, "Just as you said: more than anything. But this is the one reason why I need to leave you alone. I'm not sure if I'm mixing up wishful thinking and true caring here. Much as I'd like to convince myself that it's neither 'Mac' nor 'Sarah' whom I want in my life, but just you - I'm almost certain that I'll eventually screw this up because I can't stop thinking of could-haves or comparing the two of you."  
  
Rage was rising inside him because he couldn't even seem to explain where the problem was. "Hell, I know that you're still her... or that she's as much you as she could be... or... dammit..." The swearword was choked by a profound sob he had tried in vain to suppress. He squeezed his eyes shut and sniffed before he could face her again. "Anyway," he forced himself to continue, "The bottom-line is that as long as you don't remember our history, or who I was to you or who you were yourself... I would only cause you even more pain than I already have. That is why I can't do this. For your sake - because I've hurt you over and over again unwillingly in the past, and I love you too damn much to risk breaking you for real."  
  
She swallowed hard and didn't seem to do anything anymore to prevent her tears from falling, but in her eyes, deep understanding slowly became perceptible to him. And although the old scar on his heart was bleeding as much as ever again, making it hard to breathe, he suddenly felt immensely grateful.  
  
She even tried a sad, tearful half-smile. "Would you kiss me goodbye?" she begged shakily.  
  
Knowing his vocal chords were unable to comply, he only nodded and for one last time brought his lips to hers.  
  
The memory of that one long moment of farewell, the deepest sincerity of their feelings, combined with the incredible tenderness of their touch, were what both took with them as they went to sleep only a short time later, separated by physical distance and rational decisions, yet united in pain and caring.  
  
Feb. 21st 0910 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.  
  
It was the persistent knocking that woke him. He instantly knew it was Mac. For a moment, his heart started to race frantically because he had no idea what he was supposed to feel. Gratitude that she'd still come to him in the middle of the night when she felt she needed to? Or trepidation because the wounds of last night hadn't nearly closed enough to be tested again by the very same emotions that had caused them?  
  
Yet, he knew she'd never have come if she didn't have a good reason, especially after last night. So he tried to block the thoughts about any possible outcome of the situation out of his mind. Mac came first.  
  
Drawing one last decided breath to steady himself, he opened the door. She was wearing sweats and sneakers as if she'd been out for her early Saturday morning run - only that it was far too early this Saturday for her to be out running. Her face was still slightly red and swollen, telling him her tears hadn't stopped for some time after he'd left her alone last night. But a closer look at her face soothed his bad conscience just a little: her features now bore the expression of cool professionalism he knew so well.  
  
"Can I come in?" she asked shyly instead of a greeting.  
  
"Sure." Harm opened the door a little wider and gently took her by the arm, leading her inside without directly looking at her.  
  
She stepped inside and put down a bag she had been carrying. Harm closed the door and looked at her questioningly. This time, the opening had to come from her. Not that he wouldn't have supplied it - he just didn't have a clue what she was up to.  
  
She got straight to the point. "Harm, you told me you'd do anything to help me recover, right?" He nodded, waiting for her to elaborate.  
  
"Then, please, get your overnight bag and come to the airport with me." With that, she handed him an envelope, her voice allowing no refusal.  
  
His first notion would have been to ask her to slow down, take a seat on the couch and explain what this was all about. But the combination of vivid feelings mirroring in her eyes - hope, despair, defiance, determination, fear - made him control his reaction. It was evident she meant it, and it was equally evident that this wasn't a mere whim. Mac had decided to fight her fate. And if this meant she was in whatever way dealing with it, she had his full support.  
  
"Where are we going?" he merely asked, his outward calmness not really genuine.  
  
"Arizona." Her answer was just a little too curt to sound as unafraid as had probably been intended.  
  
At once, the memory of their last trip resurfaced and he needed all his willpower not to wince. "Okay. What are we supposed to do there?"  
  
"I want to go back to Red Rock Mesa. To where I was shot."  
  
"But we've already been there," he reasoned gently, against his own will. "What do you expect to find this time that you didn't back then?"  
  
She sighed, never averting her gaze. "I don't know. But I have to try. Something..." he could see she was searching for the right words, "Something just tells me I have to go there again."  
  
'I'm sure the clue must lie somewhere in this story...' Harm suddenly heard Dr. Smith's words in his mind. This was the moment he knew he couldn't prevent her from going. He was still doubtful it would do more good than harm facing the ordeal head-on yet again, but if Mac had had some kind of a vision or whatever one wanted to call it - after his crash in May he was the last to contradict to giving it a shot.  
  
He carefully laid his hands on her shoulders. "If you really think it'll help you..." he began, doubt ringing in his voice.  
  
Mac's lower lip began to tremble slightly but she stubbornly held his glance. "Harm, last night showed me just what I've really lost. It's not only my past. It feels like my whole future. So, if you were in my situation, what'd you do?"  
  
He only looked at her for a moment, not moving, all but losing himself in her pleading eyes. Finally shaking himself from his state of haze, he turned briskly and walked over to the bedroom. "Give me ten minutes."  
  
"Harm..."  
  
He stopped and turned.  
  
"Thank you," she said shakily, relief lighting up her expression. He smiled back, thankful she still trusted him to this extent.  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Feb. 21st 1840 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona  
  
The rental jeep was jumping so hard Harm thought the axles would break before they even reached their destination. As they were driving across the rocky desert of Monument Valley at forbidden speed, Harm had to take a firm hold on the handle in order not to bump his head against the side window. He had offered to drive but Mac had insisted he navigate and let her take the steering wheel. After not too much of a discussion he had given in. It was much easier to look at her while she had something to concentrate on.  
  
During the whole flight she had sat slumped in her seat, her fingers clutching the handle of her bag, miserably and impatiently staring out of the window. He had had to fight a strong urge to take her into his arms for comfort but he knew it would have been just the wrong thing to do. Her Marine mode was what she needed right now - it would protect her better against the hardship she was about to face than he himself possibly could have. So Harm had just sat there, watching as waiting for their plane to land had seemed to slowly drive her crazy. At the wheel, however, she looked almost relaxed. She was clearly working off her frustration and anger. He only hoped it would tire her out enough to allow a certain numbness to shield her from suffering too much if this trip turned out as fruitless as the first.  
  
They rode in silence, each contemplating their own thoughts. The only words they exchanged were when from time to time, Harm would consult the map and give her directions. Finally Harm motioned her to stop. She stepped on the brakes, they jolted to a halt and exited the car.  
  
Mac took a few tentative steps onto the open ground and then slowly turned and looked around, seeming to have no eye for the awing beauty of the reddish table mountains dominating the view. "I know we were here a few weeks ago but apart from that..." She sighed, then squared her shoulders. "Okay, let's go right back to zero. So this is where it happened?"  
  
Harm walked up to her. "Yeah. Over there, on that hilltop, is the entrance to that cave you used to come to with your uncle. That's where they kept Sergei, Chloe and AJ hostage."  
  
She had already seen the scenery once but apparently, she tried to look at it as if it were new to her. Harm watched as she climbed the little hill and entered the cave, staying back himself. He needed to give her all the time she needed, although he had little hope that she would find anything new. But maybe this trip would at least help her to find some kind of closure.  
  
Mac re-emerged from the cave, frowning. She slowly descended the hill and walked back towards him across the plane, all the time scrutinizing her surroundings as if to make sure that not even the most unimportant detail would escape her notice. Harm felt his chest tighten as the time passed and her expression became more and more openly desperate. So far, nothing in the least helpful had come up and yet, she couldn't seem to bring herself to admit failure and break off her search for no one knew what. Stubbornly she continued pacing around, making him tell her the exact events over and over again. Harm was sure that from her inner clock, she had to know they had already been out here for more than two hours but if that was the case, she kept ignoring time. It seemed as if she were convinced that her last ray of hope would finally fade away, should she accept defeat.  
  
They had once again climbed the hill that held the entrance to the cave. Trying to suppress her tears of rage and despair she scanned the surroundings for what had to be the hundredth time. But again, all her efforts were fruitless. Finally, lack of sleep, exhaustion and pain were taking their toll on her. Harm could see she tried to fight it, but in the end she broke down on the spot, crying helplessly.  
  
Harm kneeled down and in spite of all his contrary feelings tried to take her in his arms. But apparently, the closeness was too much for her to bear. She roughly pushed him away, struggled back to her feet and started to run down the hill although she had to be half blind with tears.  
  
"Sarah, don't!" Harm quickly got up but slipped and fell. Swearing, he pulled himself up again and as cautiously as he could, half ran half slid down the slope. He was afraid she would hurt herself badly if she kept on running like she was, oblivious to her surroundings and the dangers the rocky ground held. In the true sense of the word blinded by emotion.  
  
"Mac!" he furiously shouted after her, too afraid to notice he used the old nickname, "Dammit, slow down or you'll fall!"  
  
However, Mac didn't seem to hear him. Or if she did, she didn't seem to care anymore. She stumbled various times but never broke off her desperate chase. It was clear to him she didn't know where she was headed. Apparently, she only wanted to get away, to wear herself out to the point where no hurt could penetrate her conscious anymore.  
  
Harm had almost reached her when suddenly his heart skipped a beat. About 60 yards before him, Mac stumbled again and this time lost her footing. A scream tore through the deep silence around them when she hit the ground. The momentum of her fierce run made her body roll on downhill, overturning several times until she had reached the even ground. Her head collided violently with a piece of rock, then she lay motionless.  
  
"Sarah!" Harm screamed in terror, accelerating his pace as much as he could without risking to follow her down himself. It took him entirely too long until he reached her, all the time praying she wasn't injured for real.  
  
To his overwhelming relief, she started moving again when he was only a mere ten yards away. Yet, what she was doing seemed strange. She seemed to reach for something on the ground before her and when she picked it up, she pulled her hand close to her face as if to examine what she held in her hand.  
  
Panting, he finally dropped to his knees at her side. "Are you all right?" He cupped her face and examined the cut on her forehead that was bleeding considerably. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.  
  
Strangely, he didn't encounter physical pain. What he saw looked more like deepest confusion and absolute disorientation. "Sarah?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek. "Everything okay with you?"  
  
"Not Sarah," she said in a barely audibly voice. "It's Mac."  
  
"What...?" he whispered, aghast, suddenly unable to get his thoughts into an order that was reasonable enough to make him understand her words.  
  
Painfully slowly, her face contorting from the strain, she held out her hand to him.  
  
On it lay a piece of the most delicate white golden chain he had ever seen - a pendant shaped like the outlines of a heart dangling freely from it.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	13. Conclusion

'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Conclusion Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
This story is set in the middle of season7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.  
  
From part twelve:  
  
To his overwhelming relief, she started moving again when he was only a mere ten yards away. Yet, what she was doing seemed strange. She seemed to reach for something on the ground before her and when she picked it up, she pulled her hand close to her face as if to examine what she held in her hand.  
  
Panting, he finally dropped to his knees at her side. "Are you all right?" He cupped her face and examined the cut on her forehead that was bleeding considerably. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.  
  
Strangely, he didn't encounter physical pain. What he saw looked more like deepest confusion and absolute disorientation. "Sarah?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek. "Everything okay with you?"  
  
"Not Sarah," she said in a barely audible voice. "It's Mac."  
  
"What...?" he whispered, aghast, suddenly unable to get his thoughts into an order that was reasonable enough to make him understand her words.  
  
Painfully slowly, her face contorting from the strain, she held out her hand to him.  
  
On it lay a piece of the most delicate white golden chain he had ever seen - a pendant shaped like the outlines of a heart dangling freely from it.  
  
Conclusion:  
  
Just a few minutes earlier...  
  
Away. She had to get away. From him. From here. From this pain. From this life.  
  
It was too much to bear. She was drowning in despair and his tenderness was bound to push her over the edge for good. Violently freeing herself from his embrace, Sarah stumbled to her feet and set off in the first direction she turned her head in.  
  
Away, just away from him. Run, run, run, never stop...  
  
For a fleeting moment, Harm's frantic voice penetrated her conscious, crying out to her, begging her to stop and be careful. But Sarah knew she couldn't listen to him. She needed to go on. Away, just away...  
  
She didn't care anymore - where she was going, where she placed her feet, what might happen to her if she fell, what her being injured might do to him... It just didn't matter. Sarah was sick of this life, sick of chasing after someone she didn't know although people told her it was herself. She was sick of feeling her heart being ripped apart by every glance Harm would throw in her way, by every word he said, by everything he did for her. She was sick of not being able to do anything for her personal happiness. It was too much.  
  
Stumbling, retrieving her equilibrium just in time not to fall, she pushed herself forward. One basic force was driving her: pain. Harm loved her. Yet, Harm didn't love her. Harm longed to be with her. Yet, Harm wouldn't let himself be with her. Harm wanted her in his life. Yet, Harm excluded her from his life best as he could, even vowing to himself he would do so.  
  
And there was nothing Sarah could have done to change the situation.  
  
Last night, when - after hours of crying - she had made the decision to come out here again, she had laid all her hopes, all her expectations, all her wishes, all her strength... all her heart... into this one journey. She had fought until she had been at the verge of collapsing, had put everything on the line...  
  
Nothing. Her past stayed where it was. In darkness.  
  
So darkness was all Sarah had left to wish for.  
  
Enraged, she sniffed and roughly wiped away her tears that were blurring her vision, never slowing down. Suddenly, her left foot encountered something irregular on the ground. She had no time to readjust her equilibrium, she stumbled and fell. An excruciating jolt of pain ran through her whole body when she hit the ground, making her scream. She rolled on downward, all the time desperately seeking for something to hold on to, to slow down her descent. In vain. Once more hitting her head violently on some rock, leaving her unable to breathe for a few seconds, her fall was finally halted.  
  
Sarah felt something warm and sticky trickle from her forehead down her temple. Her whole body was in pain. She needed to move. She needed to get away... away... She couldn't...  
  
All of a sudden, her eyes caught sight of something that for a split second gleamed on the reddish ground before her. Mechanically, she reached out, desperately trying to ignore her pain. It was a piece of a delicate white- golden necklace, all knotted up and torn, but there was a pendant hanging on it, gleaming despite the red dust it was thickly covered with. The outlines of a heart.  
  
Time froze as slowly, achingly slowly, a thought made its way to Sarah's conscious. Everything around her slowed down to almost a stop.  
  
'My whole body is in pain...'  
  
Then, out of nowhere, a second...  
  
'I need to get away... I need to save him...'  
  
Totally unexpected, a third...  
  
'I can't move... I'm dying...'  
  
A fourth...  
  
'Harm... save me... save me...'  
  
'No, go back, get back to the car...'  
  
'Take little AJ...'  
  
'Run... blood... shooting... don't leave me... pain... run... I love you...'  
  
It was then that it happened. As more and more bits and pieces arose from nowhere, quicker, mightier, assaulting her troubled mind without warning, fusing into a giant roar of thoughts, images, emotions, one single picture suddenly stayed firm in front of her mind's eye. A moment of clairvoyance in the eye of her mental storm:  
  
Harm's face, distorted from the agony of seeing her die and being unable to save her. Having to make the hardest of decisions: her life or that of the child in his arms. She had known it was the last time she'd ever see him.  
  
It had been her moment of letting go of everything that made her life worthwhile, of her most cherished dream that had finally come true just a few hours earlier.  
  
Sarah's ultimate moment of sacrifice.  
  
The pain was overwhelming. She had to get rid of it. She had to ban this image from her mind. She had to clear her brain from anything that might ever revive it again. She had to forget. About him. About what could have been. About everything... so she could die in peace. Forget, Sarah, forget...  
  
Forget...  
  
For...  
  
Just then, Sarah made a tiny movement with the hand the heart-shaped pedant was lying in. A sunray caught in it in just the right angle. For a millisecond, its gleam was reflected directly into her eye...  
  
Harm's pendant. Harm's gift of commitment. This was real. She was here. The pain lay in the past... in her hand lay her future... All Sarah needed to do was not forget.  
  
And Mac decided she wouldn't.  
  
Meanwhile...  
  
"Are you all right?" Harm cupped her face and examined the cut on her forehead that was bleeding considerably. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.  
  
Strangely, he didn't encounter physical pain. What he saw looked more like deepest confusion and absolute disorientation. "Sarah?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek. "Everything okay with you?"  
  
"Not Sarah," she said in a barely audible voice. "It's Mac."  
  
"What...?" he whispered, aghast, suddenly unable to get his thoughts into an order that was reasonable enough to make him understand her words.  
  
Painfully slowly, her face contorting from the strain, she held out her hand to him.  
  
On it lay a piece of the most delicate white golden chain he had ever seen - a pendant shaped like the outlines of a heart dangling freely from it.  
  
The pendant he had given her. The very one his father had given to his mother.  
  
Great God.  
  
His surroundings started to spin. He had to take one of his hands off her face and rest it on the ground to steady himself, squeezing his eyes shut against the sickening whirl. 'Not Sarah, it's Mac...'  
  
"Mac..." he whispered, eyes still shut.  
  
"Harm." He barely heard her answer. It was choked by a sob. A sob that almost sounded overwhelmed... with joy.  
  
"Harm, it's me," he heard her speak up again, a slight tinge of trepidation creeping into her voice at his lack of reaction. "I won't ever leave you again," she added in almost a whisper.  
  
Mac. And what if... He didn't dare trust his luck. He couldn't risk believing and losing her again.  
  
"Harm, look at me," she pleaded, "Please... I remember you... I remember us... New Year..."  
  
Trying to prepare for the emotional impact, he opened his eyes and met hers. Hope was shining in them, surprise, joy, expectance, love.  
  
Should he, could he dare wager his soul?  
  
"I could have told you about New Year," he said, his voice feeble. 'Stay rational, Rabb. That's the only thing that will save you if everything falls apart.'  
  
Deep shock was mirrored on her features, and he saw fresh tears well up in her eyes. "Do you really think I would make this up...?" she asked, aghast, the words barely audible. "Do you think I'd betray..."  
  
"I don't know what to think," he admitted, swallowing hard. "Trusting my luck was never advisable..."  
  
"But I am here, Harm," she tried to make her point a little more firmly. "I am here with you, telling you that I love you, just like I did when you gave me this." With a trembling hand, she again held the pendant out to him.  
  
He once again felt the need to contradict. For his own mental safety. "I so want to believe you," he told her in a shaky voice that threatened to break. "But I don't know how..."  
  
And he had no idea what he could tell her to do to help him. 'Give me a sign, God,' he prayed silently, feeling the pressure in his chest was about to destroy him. 'Let me make the right choice.'  
  
"And if I could prove it to you?" she asked. "Would you listen and try to judge objectively whether I'm right or wrong? Would you, Harm?"  
  
This time, he was completely unable to fight the sudden surge of hope that took hold of his conscious. "Do you honestly think you could?" he whispered.  
  
She nodded, swallowing. "Ask," she merely said. "Ask me whatever you want to know."  
  
His first notion was to dismiss the thought from his mind. If he started digging and found she wasn't able to supply the answers he was looking for... But one more look into her beautiful brown eyes finally gave him the courage to face the hardest interrogation he had ever conducted. The one his life's happiness depended upon.  
  
He drew a deep breath. "Okay... when we were in Svichevo, with Pitcha, and she told me that no one knew where my father was buried, what did she tell me her brother used to say?"  
  
A wistful smile for a fraction of a second lit up her features. A smile that almost resembled those that people showed when they were contemplating memories that were special to them... Harm's heart was racing. Could it really be...?  
  
"She said that her brother told her that the taiga was so big that only the birds knew where it ended."  
  
The right answer. She had given him the right answer. Involuntarily, Harm reached for Mac's hand and held on to it as he would to a lifeline. Her touch was suddenly reassuring and firm in a gentle way, and her smile had deepened.  
  
A lifeline... He had to be sure. Absolutely sure.  
  
"What did you tell me on the admiral's porch when I said that in my world you'd die once you lost control?" He tried to still the trembling of his hand but couldn't bring himself to let hers go. His eyes were fixing hers, imploring her to answer correctly, now that his hopes were rising faster than ever. 'Please, Mac...'  
  
"I told you you weren't flying a Tomcat and that you should let go of that lifeline before it became a noose."  
  
Again. She had done it again. 'God, let her be right one last time and I swear I'll believe it's her. Just let her be right, please, God...'  
  
He almost couldn't get the words out. His throat was strangled by the insufferable pressure that had accumulated within him. One last answer and he'd let it break free, one last answer...  
  
"And what did I tell you when we had decided we should go in?" he asked, trembling, not knowing where to look, how to breathe, what to do...  
  
"You have someone who'll always love you," she cited him literally. And when he finally dared to meet her gaze again, the fact that her answer had been correct slowly getting through to him, she went on, "And you have somebody that loves you..."  
  
The same voice, the same tone, the same wording, the same emotions shining in her eyes.  
  
In that precise moment, Harm let go of his lifeline.  
  
He couldn't prevent himself from dropping her hand, curling up, still kneeling, resting his forearms on his thighs and burying his face in his hands. He sobbed once, twice... he felt Mac's arms going around him from the side, drawing him to her, making his head rest in her lap.  
  
And then the tears came for real.  
  
Feb. 21st 2338 ZULU Pueblo Motel Somewhere on the road to Phoenix Arizona  
  
Shyly standing half a yard apart from him, Mac was holding the receiver to her ear as she pressed the loudspeaker button. Her eyes never left his - as they hadn't nearly all the time ever since he had cried himself out in her arms and then, suddenly freed of his immense burden, had only taken her by the hand, wordlessly led her to the car and set a course for home.  
  
Every few seconds, his gaze had wandered from the road to her eyes that were fixed upon him, her angelic smile ever present. Neither of them had needed words to express what was going on. Eventually, he had decided it was getting too late to try and catch a flight home the same night. So he had, still wordlessly, followed the next sign indicating a motel. They had found it comfortable - and hadn't found the strength to object when the receptionist had wished Mr. and Mrs. Rabb a pleasant stay.  
  
Once the door had closed behind them, neither had known what to do. No falling into each other's arms, no real contact even, only her hand in his. And their gazes locked as firmly as ever.  
  
Eventually, she had found the courage to speak. "I'll call the admiral. He'll want to know."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"You think I shouldn't?"  
  
He had thought about it for a second, but then had decided she was right. Their friends wanted to know. And the admiral was too dear a person to both of them not to relieve him from his grief and concern about her state. "No, it's okay. Go ahead."  
  
He had accompanied her to the phone and now their smiles were broadening by the second as they heard the dial tone on the other end of the line, knowing they were about to communicate a miracle.  
  
["Chegwidden."]  
  
Mac cleared her throat. "Good evening, sir. This is Colonel Mackenzie." At the use of her rank, she winked at Harm whose heart did a little somersault.  
  
["Colonel?"] They could tell the admiral was slightly confused but tried to go along her lines. ["Good evening, what can I do for you?"]  
  
Mac quickly covered the receiver with her hand as both had to stifle their chuckles. Then, she drew a deep breath and tried to calm down again, giving Harm a look that made his breath catch in his throat. Her dark eyes were sparkling with merriment and affection as she smiled like she would at her co-conspirator who held a special place in her heart.  
  
"Uh... I just wanted to let you know that I... ah... decided to apply for being reinstated to my position by July 1st. If that is convenient for you, sir."  
  
The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. Just when Harm was about to urge Mac to say something, Chegwidden found his voice that was just a little hoarse. ["Is there anything else you might want to tell me, Sarah?"]  
  
"It's Mac, sir," she said instead of a direct answer. Harm thought he was about to burst from suppressed laughter. A bottle of champagne couldn't have had more effect on him than the grin she threw him, again accompanied by a wink at hearing the admiral's question.  
  
Seconds ticked by... three, four, five...  
  
["Good Lord..."] the admiral breathed into the receiver rather shakily. ["How?"] he only managed to ask.  
  
"Commander Rabb and I went to Arizona again, sir," Mac explained, every single word ringing with happiness, "And... I don't know... it just happened."  
  
A deep sigh made its way over the phone line. ["I can't begin to tell you how glad I am to have you back,"] the admiral finally stated, apparently for once not even trying to conceal his feelings. ["Of course, as soon as you have them, we'll process the papers to get your reinstatement on the way. Now... where's that lucky son of a... so I can thank him?"]  
  
Finally, Mac let her laughter bubble up, making Harm laugh out loud with her. He took the receiver she handed him, his voice overflowing with glee. "Admiral, sir?"  
  
["How the hell did you do that, Commander?"] Chegwidden grumbled, trying to mask his emotions with his usual gruffness but failing miserably.  
  
"I had no hand in it, sir," Harm answered truthfully, a little astonished at his CO's reaction. "Actually, it was by pure chance that Mac found..."  
  
["Nonsense,"] the admiral cut him off. ["We all know to what extent you battled for the colonel's recovery. If there's any merit in this whole affair, it goes all to you. Understood?"]  
  
"Understood, sir," Harm mumbled, embarrassed but genuinely pleased by the unexpected praise. "Thank you, sir."  
  
["Do you have court this week, Commander?"]  
  
"On Wednesday, the Dubois Article 32 I prep..." Harm didn't get any further.  
  
["Then I'll see you on Wednesday, preferably with the colonel's file all prepared. Enjoy your time off."]  
  
Unconsciously pulling himself up to attention, Harm joyfully acknowledged, "Aye, aye, sir!"  
  
["And... Harm?"] Suddenly, the admiral's voice was gentler than they had ever heard him.  
  
"Yes, sir?" Harm cast Mac a puzzled glance. She shrugged, pursing her lips.  
  
["Take up where you left off when Lieutenant Sims called you. That's an order, son."]  
  
"I had no intention not to, sir," Harm replied softly, feeling his cheeks starting to burn.  
  
["Very well, carry on. Goodnight, Colonel, Commander."]  
  
Mac quickly approached Harm so she could speak into the receiver together with him.  
  
"Goodnight, sir."  
  
"Goodnight, sir, thank you, sir."  
  
With an openly smirking ["Dismissed!"] the line went dead - and Harm became aware that Mac's mouth was suddenly very close to his where they'd bent over the receiver together. When she turned and fully faced him, her lips were mere inches away from his. His heart started beating frantically.  
  
This was it. No denying, no turning back. Now all he had to do was cross that line again. Three little words. 'You can do it, Hammer, you know you can,' he encouraged himself.  
  
Drawing a decided breath, he gently laid his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer until their bodies touched. "I don't recall exactly what we were saying or doing when Harriet called," he confessed shyly. "But how about I start with 'I love you'?"  
  
"Wow," she answered in a low, happy voice, putting her arms around Harm's neck. "Facing the enemy head-on, right?"  
  
"No," he contradicted with a smile, "Just tying up loose ends." Bending his head to the right, he leaned in and, his heart beating fast, finally felt her lips on his again. But unlike the day before, this was a kiss of welcome, not of goodbye. He felt her body mold to his and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, still not fully able to believe that nearly two months of unimaginable hardship for both of them had been overcome, at last.  
  
As the kiss started to take up a life of its own, growing in passion and devotion, Harm had to break off again and he embarrassedly wiped away a few tears that had resurfaced when the reality of the moment had hit him full force.  
  
"Sorry, honey," he whispered, his shoulders shaking in a mixture of laughter and crying. Shaking his head at himself, he tried to pull himself together and be there for her in full, but the long suppression of his feelings had worn out his strength. All he managed was a lopsided, watery smile.  
  
Mac's voice wasn't entirely stable either. "Don't worry, we've got all the time in the world," she answered just as low, kissing a few tears away from his cheeks. "And just in case you were wondering: I love you, too."  
  
Hearing those words, he captured her lips with his again for a long moment, needing a physical confirmation of what he had longed to hear for so long. Then he broke the contact and drew back slightly so he could just look at her. "Thank you for never giving in."  
  
"Thank you for never giving up on me," she replied softly. "Now who owes whom?"  
  
"I guess we're pretty much even." He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, caressing the soft skin he had forever longed to touch. All of a sudden, he felt a heated urge to discover this same softness on her shoulders, on her back, on her legs, everywhere. But he forced himself not to let his desire show too openly. Their relationship was still fragile. Rushing things could turn out fatal in the end.  
  
Yet, Mac spared him the effort to hold back. "If I recall correctly," she said into the crook of his neck that she had buried her nose in, "We were discussing that there was still enough left of the night for... well... getting acquainted, when Harriet called."  
  
He chuckled at the memory, running his right hand through her hair. "Yeah..." He sobered. It was obvious what she wanted him to do, but he had to at least warn her. "Do you really think... after all that's happened... that you're ready to take that step, Mac?" he asked tenderly, hoping she didn't hear the anticipation he couldn't help feeling at her insinuation.  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes as clear and warm as he'd ever seen them, her determination and caring evident. "I'm as ready as I could ever be," she answered softly. "I already was on New Year's Eve. But if the past weeks have had any influence at all on my feelings towards you, then they've deepened them in a way I'd never have thought possible. Getting so near to each other is mainly a matter of deep trust - and you've shown me all over again just how deeply I can trust you, no matter what. Tell me, what more does it need to be ready for that step?" The love inherent in her gaze was almost tangible, when her expression suddenly turned afraid. "Or are you having doubts that you yourself might not be ready yet? You know, you can always tell me..."  
  
He pulled her close again, burying his nose in her hair. "No, I'm ready, if you are. It's just all a little... overwhelming."  
  
"Definitely," she agreed against his chest, chuckling nervously.  
  
"Tell me," he asked, following a sudden strange notion, "What are you planning on doing until July? So much spare time..."  
  
She looked up again. "Honestly, I have no idea. I just thought going into reserves and returning to active duty such a short time later might seem very weird in my service record. That's bound to raise unpleasant questions. Half a year seems a decent time to get something else done, make up your mind and return, right? I might just take a post-grad course in international law or something."  
  
"So you might have a little time to go house-hunting?"  
  
She looked as astonished as he'd expected. "Maybe, but why should I ..."  
  
He placed a quick kiss on her lips to silence her. "I'm not too sure I want to continue this my-place/your-place kind of thing, now that we're an item. Let's have 'our' place instead. What do you say?"  
  
"Move in together?" she shook her head incredulously. "Flyboy, once you make up your mind you take it all the way, right?"  
  
Hoping she wouldn't notice just how madly his heart had started to race, he nodded earnestly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've come too damn close to losing you once too often," he declared sincerely. "I'd be foolish not to draw any consequences this time." He held out his hand to her, handing her the torn necklace. "I know this is no ring, but I'm handing you my heart, Mac. Marry me?"  
  
'Radiant' hardly described the way she smiled at him. Her eyes shining with pure joy, she took the necklace from his hand and slid it into the breast pocket of her shirt. "I've come too damn close to losing you to say no," she answered lovingly.  
  
His joy needed a valve. He lifted her off the ground and held her close, marveling briefly at how light she was for being so tall. "Now, was that 'Sarah' or 'Mac' speaking?" he inquired, looking up to her, one eyebrow up high.  
  
Finally laughing freely, she slightly smacked him on the back of his head. "Don't you ever dare playing me off against myself," she threatened.  
  
"Or else what?" he mocked her, whirling her around and laughing with her, never wanting to leave this emotional all-time high behind.  
  
"You'll meet my wrath," she announced, trying to sound menacing but failing miserably as a new fit of laughter began to shake her.  
  
"Whose wrath?" he couldn't help pushing the topic farther. "Sarah's? That might be hard on my conscience. Or do you mean Mac's? Well, that's sure to be rough on my body. Do I get a vote in that?"  
  
Her grin had turned just a little malicious. "Jerk..." she hissed, giggling as he tickled her. When he stopped, she only fixed her stern gaze to his, the latent grin threatening to break through the earnest mask far too easily. "How about simply 'mine'?"  
  
He feigned disappointment. "How boring."  
  
"Just you wait, sailor," she countered, "You'd better get used to having 'me' around 24/7 now, or else you'll come to know just how tiring a ménage à trois can be."  
  
"Ménage à trois?" he asked, comprehending just a little too late.  
  
"Okay, make that a ménage à quatre: you, me, Sarah and Mac. How about that?"  
  
He set her down on her feet and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Dear God, three of your caliber? Are you trying to kill me, Marine? But, you know, I'll take anything as long as I can have you."  
  
"Then let's forget about multiple personalities, okay? I know a place where there's only room for two right now..." Her voice was velvety and seductive.  
  
"Yeah," he answered, his words suddenly devoid of any mockery. Only the warmth of his love prevailed when he added, "Our life."  
  
THE END 


End file.
